Kurt didn't really like the gay scene – what there was of one, anyway, which wasn't much

– in Lima. But there was one bar that had a monthly queer-friendly night that was actually pretty awesome. There was usually a good mix of gay, straight and everything in between. They had a bit of a stage show going on as well, and Kurt had idly contemplated getting up on stage himself once or twice, but he'd not done it - yet. He was leaning on the end of the bar, sipping at a coke – checking out the crowd and just enjoying the night. He'd seen a cute guy earlier, a bit short but definitely hot, his age and a sharp dresser which Kurt could always get behind. He was pretty sure the other guy had noticed him as well, because their eyes had met and he had definitely smiled at Kurt. He seemed to have disappeared though, which was disappointing. Maybe he'd turn up again later, it was still early. “Okay, guys,” the announcer was saying from the edge of the little stage. “We've got a treat for you tonight. I'd like to introduce Berry Rayson, a seriously hot young singer who's making his debut for us tonight.” She grinned out at the crowd. “And if anyone likes the look of him you'd better make your move fast or he might just be coming home with me. Put your hands together for Berry with 'Sexy Back!'” She stepped back and the lights dropped leaving just one spot on the center of the stage.

The music started up, and onto the stage strolled – the guy Kurt had been checking out earlier. He'd taken off the tailored jacket he'd been wearing before and had it hanging over his shoulder, dangling from one finger. His shirt collar was open and his sleeves were rolled up. He was wearing a hat tipped down low over one eye and his pants were seriously tight. He threw a smouldering look in the direction of the announcer and stood in the center of the spot, head down, nodding just a little to the beat and tapping one toe. Then he lifted his face and started to sing, strutting across the stage as if he owned it – which he did, for the length of the song. His voice was low and husky, perfectly pitched. It seemed kind of familiar to Kurt actually, but he couldn't place where he'd heard it before. He didn't dance, just swaggered across the stage, swinging his hips in time to the music, hands moving along with the lyrics. He picked out a few punters and sang parts of the song to them as well – guys as well as girls, which gave Kurt hope. Of course, maybe he was just playing up the song, but damn if the guy didn't look hot up there, strutting his stuff. The song ended, and Berry stood in the middle of the stage for a moment, accepting the applause that was only his due, before bowing cockily and stepping down from the stage and towards the bar. The

announcer stepped back up. “And that, people, was Berry Rayson. Let's hope he'll favour us with more of his vocal stylings some other time, huh?” Kurt tuned out as the announcer started to welcome the next act, because Berry Rayson was heading his way. In fact, Berry Rayson was standing right next to him, jacket still slung over his shoulder, one thumb hooked into the belt loop of his jeans. He was still breathing a little hard from singing, slightly flushed, and Kurt thought he looked absolutely delicious. Berry smiled at him. “Hey,” he said, and his low voice was so quiet Kurt had to strain a little to hear him. “Buy a guy a drink?” He raised an eyebrow and Kurt just nodded silently, too surprised to say anything. Berry turned and caught the bartender's attention, pointing to Kurt's drink and holding up two fingers. Then he turned back to Kurt, sidling a little closer. “So,” he asked, a hint of a smile playing across his lips. “Do you come here often?” He sounded amused, but then, delivering that line, who wouldn't be? Kurt nodded, and then remembered that he should probably be talking. “Yeah, every month. Haven't seen you here before though.” Berry smirked. “Haven't seen me anywhere,” he drawled. “This is my first night out.” He winked.

Kurt blinked, confused for a moment, but was distracted by the arrival of their drinks. He pushed a note at the bartender, and handed Berry his glass. Their fingers brushed and Kurt almost dropped the glass. Berry jerked his head sideways, indicating a booth that had just emptied. “Come on,” he said. “Before someone else grabs it.” Kurt followed obediently, sliding into the booth to be joined by the other guy. Berry hadn't chosen to sit opposite him either, he'd slid in on the same side and they were sitting so close together he could feel the heat of the other boy's leg through his jeans. “So,” Berry said, leaning a little closer. “You like it, huh?” Kurt, mouth suddenly dry, could only nod and blink owlishly. Berry leaned in a little further. He paused for a second, eyes searching Kurt's, and when he seemed to find what he was looking for, closed the last distance between them and pressed his lips to Kurt's. His lips were soft, and he smelled good, like cherry shampoo. The kiss was over almost as soon as it had started, and and when Berry leaned back and grinned

at him, Kurt could only sit there, lips slightly parted. “So, what do you think?” Berry asked. “You're very quiet.” Kurt blinked again. “I, er, I ... It was nice?” “Just nice?” Berry scowled, and pulled off his hat. His hair fell down his back, luxurious curls that reached almost to his waist and Kurt couldn't hold back the squeak of surprise as suddenly, the hot guy sitting in front of him was transformed. Into Rachel Berry. Berry. Rachel – Rayson. Of course. Rachel blinked back at him, confused, and then her mouth dropped open in shock. “You didn't know!” She said, suddenly using her normal voice again. “Really? You weren't just playing along? I thought that you were entering into the spirit of the performance! I certainly would not have kissed you if I had realised that you were labouring under the misapprehension that I was actually a boy!” “Oh. My. God.” Kurt said, finally regaining his voice. “Rachel? Seriously?” Rachel smirked at him, and suddenly he realised that

'his' cockiness was just as familiar as his singing voice. “Yes,” she said. “Seriously. I thought that it would be an interesting challenge, singing as a male – men are completely different to women, you know, how they walk, how they use their hands, where they sing from. It was very challenging.” “I know,” Kurt said wryly. “Men, women. I have noticed the difference.” Suddenly he was grinning and bouncing in his seat. “Rachel! You have to do this for the rest of the club. If I didn't recognise you there's no way any of the others will.” Suddenly shy, Rachel bit her lip and looked away. “I don't ... I don't know, Kurt. I mean, what if they think I'm weird?” She laughed bitterly. “No, never mind that. What if they think I'm even weirder than they already do?” Kurt rolled his eyes at the girl. “Shut up. It'll be hilarious.” “Well, I ...” “If I thought you were hot,” he said slyly, “just think what the others will think.”

Rachel gave him a confused look. “But ... You're the only gay guy,” she reminded him. “I know that!” He said, flicking his fingers at her dismissively. “I meant the girls.” He looked down, inspecting his fingernails, and then looked back up at her through his eyelashes. “More specifically, I meant Quinn.” Rachel blushed, and it must have been some serious blushing because Kurt could see it even in the dimly lit booth. She didn't protest though, so he continued. “I've seen the way you look at her, when you think noone's looking. I don't blame you – I'd look too, if I liked girls.” Rachel bit her bottom lip, and looked away from him for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked back at him. “Okay. I like Quinn. I don't know why because she's annoying and she's been terribly mean to me in the past and it always hurt more from her because I liked her even then but she's being nicer now and ...” She took another breath. “You really think she might notice me? Notice Berry, I mean?” “Hell yeah, I think she would,” Kurt said smugly, leaning back on the bench and grinning at Rachel.

“You, as a guy? Are smoking hot. I mean, you're hot when you're not a guy, but there's something about that Berry Rayson act that'll have that girl all over you.” Rachel looked thoughtful, and reached up to coil her hair back on top of her head, tucking it neatly under her hat. She shifted slightly, and suddenly Kurt was looking at Berry Rayson again. He had no idea how she did it – he'd just watched her, and he still couldn't say. But she – no, he – had changed somehow, with nothing more than a hat and a subtle shift in the way he was sitting. “So,” he drawled, tracing the wet rim of his glass with one finger. “You think Quinn'll like what she sees?” He raised an eyebrow, and all Kurt could do was nod, suddenly dry-mouthed again. “Good,” he said decisively. “Then we've got some planning to do.” -----Kurt went over to Rachel's house the next weekend, more than a little curious. He'd never been to her place, and he'd never met her dads. Of course he was curious – in twenty years he could be them, raising a carefully-planned kid with a life-partner. He wasn't sure if the idea was appealing or terrifying.

It was Rachel that answered the door, though, not Berry, a fact for which Kurt found himself grateful, although if he was honest also a little disappointed. He found it hard to think straight around Berry – the guy was hot. But the guy was also a girl, and it just hurt his head to try and wrap his brain around the situation – so it was much more comfortable not to have to try. She led him through the house, introduced him briefly to her dads, who were sitting in the kitchen having a good-natured argument over breakfast juices, and took him upstairs to her room. He was surprised to find it was actually almost tasteful – sunny yellow walls, lots of light. There was a bit of pink glitter, because well, she wouldn't Rachel if there wasn't, but it was actually not too bad. “Right,” he said, taking a seat on the end of her bad and crossing his legs, looking up at her expectantly. “Show me what we've got to work with.” After their encounter, they had talked over what their plan was – and Kurt had been adamant that the first thing to do was get Berry some clothes he could party in. Puck had his house to himself that weekend and inevitably, he was throwing a kegger and everyone was going to be there – they reckoned it would be a good time to introduce Berry. Rachel had cried off,

claiming she had to work on her solos, and Kurt had mentioned in passing that he'd be bringing a friend. Berry's stage look was sharp, Kurt admitted that happily, but he also said it wasn't right for partying, and Rachel had agreed. Which was why they were about to go through Rachel's wardrobe, looking for anything they could use. “Not much, probably,” she said ruefully, pulling open the doors of her closet, and revealing an awful lot of, well, skirts, And argyle. And pantsuits. Kurt sighed. This may, in fact, have been a total waste of time. “You know what,” he said, “I don't think we should even bother. Let's just go shopping.” He grinned happily. Make-over! There was nothing he loved more than a make-over, and he never got to give a guy a make-over. Rachel grinned back at him. No-one ever wanted to go shopping with her. Unless it was to pick out costumes for Glee numbers, and that wasn't exactly a social outing. “I suppose I should change?” She asked. “If we're buying things for my male persona, I should be in his body – I bind and pack, of course, so my body shape is totally different.”

Kurt blinked, and nodded. Rachel beamed at him, and skipped happily into her bathroom, leaving him sitting on the end of the bed, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into. Rachel was probably the most honest person he had ever met – there didn't seem to be anything she wouldn't talk about. Which was, admittedly, not always a good thing. She was back in just a few minutes, wearing a white undershirt, grey socks – and a pair of snug boxers with little pictures of Tweety all over them. Kurt snickered. Rachel pouted. She liked her Tweety boxers – they made her smile. It was weird, Kurt thought, watching her as she dug through her wardrobe. With her breasts flattened and a distinct bulge at her groin, she should have looked like a guy – but she didn't. She hadn't done whatever it was that she did to become Berry. She pulled on a plain grey t-shirt, and the trousers and jacket she'd been wearing before, slipping her feet into plain black loafers. She was still Rachel though. It wasn't until she coiled her hair up under her hat, that she did whatever it was that she did and suddenly, Kurt was looking at Berry again. And he still couldn't tell how she – no, he again – had done it. “It's the hat,” he told him. “I feel like Berry when I have

this hat on.” Kurt shrugged slightly. He supposed that made sense, in a weird sort of Rachel way. They left the house, pausing again in the door of the kitchen to say good bye to Rachel's dads, who looked mildly surprised. Kurt noted with interest, though, that it was 'Bye, Berry', not 'Bye, Rachel'. Then it was shop, shop, shop for the next few hours. Kurt had dragged Berry into every single store in Lima, it seemed, by the time they had finished. But he was pleased with the results, Berry was definitely ready to party. Tight jeans were paired with secondhand Converse hi-tops they'd found in a vintage store – new stuff would be a dead giveaway, Berry had pointed out – and a vintage band tee they'd found in the same store. Shirt over that with the sleeves rolled up, and of course the hat. “You'll do,” Kurt said, nodding at the ensemble. “So. Let's do this.” Berry took a deep breath, checked himself over in the rear-view mirror of Kurt's car one last time, and nodded. They got out of the car, rang the doorbell, and waited for someone to answer. Berry fidgeted nervously, until Kurt turned him by the shoulders, adjusted his hat, and gave him a stern look.

“You're hot,” he said. “Now, stop fidgeting, and go get her.” Berry nodded, and allowed a cocky smile to pull up the corners of his lips. “Who's the guy with Kurt?” Quinn asked, as they walked into the house. He was cute. “No idea,” Puck shrugged. “He just said was it okay if he brought a friend. I figured why not – although if they start makin' out where I can see them ...” Quinn shook her head at him, amused, and turned away. He always had to make like the idea of two guys together was so gross – she wondered sometimes if he didn't press the fact a little too hard. Still, the guy with Kurt was hot – short, maybe, and his mouth was perhaps a little too pretty for a guy, but he had lovely dark eyes. And the way he walked – like he owned the room. That kind of confidence was a serious turn-on. But the guy was here with Kurt, which probably meant that he was with Kurt, so what was the point? “He's hot.” That was Santana, leaning over her shoulder and muttering in her ear. “Pity he's with Kurt. Maybe all he needs is a good woman, huh?” Quinn rolled her eyes at her, and laughed.

“Maybe. I'm going to say hi.” When Quinn started heading towards them, Berry took half a step backwards, only to be stopped by Kurt's arm which was loosely draped over his shoulders. “Oh, no you don't,” Kurt muttered into his ear. “I didn't go through all that shopping for you to bail on me. Man up!” So Berry squared his shoulders, tipped his hat down a little further, and aimed his best cocky smile at the blonde approaching them. If he was going to do this, then he was going to do this. Berry was. He was confident, he was hot, and he was going to get the girl. “Hi, Kurt. Hi, Kurt's friend.” Kurt grinned. “This is Berry Rayson – he doesn't know anyone so I said I'd introduce him around. I may be gay but I still know all the hot girls.” There. That should deal with any rumours that Berry was Kurt's boyfriend – and to judge by the way Quinn's eyes lit up, it had. Kurt knew Quinn wouldn't be able to resist Berry. Unless his gaydar had blown a fuse - and it hadn't - Quinn couldn't resist Rachel, not that she knew it herself, so Berry would be the perfect bait. It was flawless.

“Right,” he said. “I'm going to go and find where Puck's hidden the fruity drinks, can you two entertain each other? Excellent.” And without waiting for an answer, his disappeared, leaving Berry and Quinn looking at each other slightly startled. “You know,” Quinn said. “I'm tempted to think Kurt is trying to set us up.” Berry smirked. “Oh, I know he is. He said that there was an attractive blonde who might like the look of me. I see he was right.” He gave Quinn a smirk as she laughed at his vanity. Well, it was true, she did like the look of him. “He didn't do you justice, though,” Berry continued. “You're very beautiful.” Quinn blushed, because his dark eyes swept over her and she could swear she could feel a wave of heat following his gaze. “Would you like to dance?” He asked. Quinn nodded, and let him take her hand and drag her into the space that had been designated the dance area. Berry pulled her against him, loosely, and they began to sway in time with the music. He really wasn't very tall, she noted idly, realising once they were standing

so close that she was actually slightly taller than him. He was a good dancer though, resting his hands lightly on her hips and guiding her in time with the beat. The song was over much too fast for Quinn, and Berry pulled away from her with another of those cocky smiles that seemed to be his trademark. “I'll get us a drink,” he said, running a hand gently down her bare arm. His fingers were very soft, she noticed. Nice. Not like Puck or Finn, who always seemed to have rough skin, but more like the way she thought Kurt's hands would probably feel – or the way her own did. He turned on a heel, and left her standing on the edge of the dance area, trying to catch her breath. The boy was ... intense. The way he looked at her ... She liked it. A lot. “Why were you dancing with Rachel?” Brittany was standing next to her, giving her a curious look. “I thought you didn't like her like that?” Quinn blinked at the blonde, confused. “Rachel? I wasn't dancing with Rachel. That was Kurt's friend Berry -” She broke off as soon as she said the name, eyes flying open wide. Berry. Berry Rayson. Rachel Berry. Holy ... “No,” Brittany was saying, oblivious to Quinn's sudden revelation. “That was Rachel. She is dressed as a

boy, though, isn't she? I wonder why. She looks handsome, though – if you don't want to dance with her, I will.” Quinn shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She'd just been crushing on Rachel Berry. Only not. This was confusing. Sure, Rachel was actually pretty hot when she thought about it. Which she totally hadn't. She had that kissable mouth and seriously intense eyes, and okay so her confidence was annoying as hell but it was actually kind of attractive and ... And those were the things she'd noticed first about Berry Rayson. “No, I ... Thanks, B. Um, talk to you later, okay?” She headed off, intending to find Rachel and give her a piece of her mind – and then she saw her. Or rather, she didn't. She saw Berry Rayson, leaning with one hand on the back of a sofa, laughing with Kurt at something Finn was saying. He had that hat dipped down low again, so she couldn't see his eyes, but she could see his mouth, open in a laugh, flashing straight white teeth. She could see the strong line of his neck, and following down, a flat chest – and a definite bulge in his pants. Dear sweet Jesus. Rachel had really gone all out, hadn't she? Thing was – even though she knew it was Rachel, she still saw Berry Rayson. She still liked what she saw. She still ... Dammit, she still wanted Berry. She

stalked over to the boys – not even noticing that she had automatically lumped Rachel into the same group as Kurt and Finn – and put a hand on Berry's shoulder. “Sorry, guys. I'm borrowing Berry.” And she curled her fingers into his shirt and dragged him out of the room, up the stairs, through a guest room, and into the bathroom. She didn't let him go – and hell, she couldn't stop thinking of him as him, and he looked so hot all flushed and confused – until she'd locked the door behind them. "Quinn, what are you -” Quinn silenced Berry with a finger to his lips. She didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear that low voice that was, now she knew, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. So she kissed him. Kissed him to shut him up, kissed him because she didn't want to have to answer that question, kissed him because, damn her, she wanted to. His lips were soft, of course they were, and although his arms flailed uselessly at his sides for a moment it wasn't long before he moaned throatily into her mouth and brought his hands up to wind his fingers into her hair. Shit. She was really doing this. She moved her hands up in between them, running her fingers up his arms, and down over his chest. It didn't feel quite like a guy, but it didn't feel anything like a girl.

She curled one hand around the back of his neck, and slid the other down between them, further down, until she was cupping the bulge in his pants. He jerked against her, eyes flying wide in surprise. “What -” Quinn didn't let him speak, kissing him again and then fixing him with a stare. “Shut up, Berry.” “Quinn, I'm -” Another kiss. “Seriously, Berry. Shut the hell up.” Rachel moaned, her protests forgotten, as Quinn kissed the side of her neck, flicking her tongue over the skin. She wasn't entirely sure what was going on. This really seemed out of character for Quinn – dragging a guy she'd only just met into a bathroom for a heavy petting session – but then Quinn's hand massaged his - her - cock again, and she lost her train of thought. Fuck, she didn't even know what gender she thought she was any more. It was just a lump of sculpted silicon, but when she looked down she could almost feel what Quinn was doing. Hell, she could feel it because as Quinn moved it rubbed against her. Then, Quinn dropped to her knees and began flicking open the buttons on her – his – pants.

“Quinn, seriously, I -” Quinn actually growled. “Shut. The fuck. Up, Berry.” With that, she reached into his pants, and pulled out the prosthesis Berry had strapped onto him. Her expression didn't change, even though it was now obvious that it wasn't real. Rachel was confused, but then Quinn looked up, licked her lips, and bent forward to take the tip of the silicon cock into her mouth. All coherent thought fled. Quinn still didn't know what she thought she was doing. Blowing Rachel Berry in a bathroom? Except she wasn't. It was Berry Rayson and even though the cock in her mouth wasn't real, the groans of the guy above her were, and the pounding ache between her legs told her that it just was. She realised that the cock in her mouth had some kind of stiff rod running through it, and pulled it upwards. It actually looked pretty realistic, standing proudly up out of Berry's open fly, and she wrapped her lips around it and bobbed her head down again. Rachel was transfixed. Quinn Fabray was on her knees with Berry's cock in her mouth, looking as if she was enjoying it. It didn't matter that she couldn't feel it. She could see it, and it was almost enough to make her come right there. Problem was, it wasn't enough, and she was getting more and more frustrated with every bob of Quinn's head.

“Quinn,” she – he – said roughly, pushing Quinn's head away from him. His knees went weak when she looked up – lips red and wet, eyes dark. She was breathing hard and it couldn't just be from having to breathe around his cock. “Quinn, can we – would you ...” He took a deep breath and remembered that he was confident, dammit. Quinn was there because she wanted to be, there was no other explanation for it. He reached down to adjust himself back inside his pants, and pulled her up onto her feet. “Bathrooms just aren't romantic,” he said, running his thumb over her cheek. “What do you say we move this to somewhere a little more private? I've got my house to myself.” Quinn blinked at him, instinctively pushing her face into the stroking. She should say no, but ... “Yes. Please.” They made their way quickly and silently away from the party, hands linked together, and walked the short distance to Quinn's car. They didn't speak on the journey either, aside from Berry's low-voiced directions, until they pulled up outside his house. He gave her an intense look as they stood outside his door, before putting one hand over hers. “Are you sure?” He asked gruffly, and when she

nodded silently, he nodded back at her, and ushered her into the house. Upstairs, in his bedroom, they looked silently at each other for a moment, and then he was on her, kissing her, pushing her back towards the bed. Quinn moaned. She hadn't seen this side of him at the party – he was too surprised. But she liked this, he was direct and demanding. His lips were firm on hers, tongue demanding entry, and his hands were all over her. He slipped his hands up under her dress, skimming his palms over her thigh and cupping her ass through her panties. He squeezed softly, massaging each buttock gently, and she pressed forwards against him with a sigh. He felt so good. He turned her around and lifted her hair forward over her shoulder, dropping light kisses onto the back of her neck as his nimble fingers flicked open the buttons at the back of her dress. He kissed down her spine as the dress fell open, covering each bit of skin with his lips as it was revealed. When the dress was undone, he pushed it off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. Quinn shivered as the fabric slithered down her body, but then she was shivering because Berry was pressing himself up against her back, hands running around her, stroking, his lips brushing over that spot on the back of her neck that always made her knees weak. He noticed, because he was biting down on the

spot and she was whimpering high in the back of her throat and suddenly, her bra was hanging loosely and his hands were cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples which were so hard they hurt. “Berry,” she whimpered as he squeezed her nipples and pressed against her back, his cock firm against her ass, the soft worn cotton of his shirt rubbing against her. “Berry, please, I -” And his hand was in her panties, brushing through her neatly trimmed curls. She keened as his fingers slipped lower, brushing across her clit and finding warm slick folds and she would have fallen forwards if it hadn't been for his arm across her chest. It didn't matter though, because a moment later he was pushing her forwards, and her knees hit the bed and next thing she knew she was on all fours and he was pulling her panties down her legs and pushing her legs apart and then, oh god, his tongue was right there. This had happened a couple of times before, but it didn't feel like this. Because it was never from behind, because it was never Berry (Rachel), because it was – and then a tongue was pushing into her and she stopped thinking, couldn't think. She was gasping and lifting her hips, pushing back into the delicious lips and tongue behind her, when suddenly, it stopped. She looked over her shoulder, breathing hard, confused and just a little worried. Berry smirked back at her, lips and cheeks glistening,

and Quinn blushed. That was because of her. “Give me just a moment,” he said, rising to his feet, cocky grin firmly back in place. “Just stay there,” and his voice dropped even lower, “and think about what you want me to do to you.” He stepped quickly across the room and into what she assumed must be the bathroom, and Quinn bent her arms, letting her head drop down onto the soft comforter with a groan. She had been so close, and the damned tease was leaving her. But he'd said to think about what she wanted. How could she think about anything else after that? Besides, where had Rachel Berry learned that? An image of Rachel on her knees, tongue worshipping some faceless woman skipped across her mind and she moaned again, a wave of arousal and jealousy washing over her. Jealousy? She didn't even recognise it for what it was then, although she would later, and the image was enough to occupy her while she waited. Rachel shut the bathroom door behind her, leaning against it and running one hand over her face, looking at her fingers with a smile. That was – for her. Her face fell slightly. No, that was for Berry, Quinn had made it quite clear, every time she had tried to stop or talk that she didn't want to know. That she wanted to pretend Rachel was really a boy. That was why she had pushed Quinn down onto her face, so that she didn't have to remember that it was a girl doing these

things to her. Fine. Rachel would give her boy. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her pants and boxers, although she left her shirt and tee on. Then the harness that held her cock. It was snug enough to keep it in place, but not for what she had in mind. Besides, she had a toy that she hadn't thought she was ever going to get the chance to use on anyone other than herself and she wasn't going to pass up the chance to use it. She pulled it out and looked at it, running her fingers over it's surface for a moment, before coating her fingers with lube and running them over the toy until it glistened. She pressed it up between her legs, suppressing a wince. The part that went inside her was bigger than the other end – shorter, but wider, to ensure that it stayed in place. It didn't hurt as much as she had expected though. She was absolutely drenched, and as she took a step towards the door and the toy bobbed in front of her, she had to stop for a moment to control the throb of pleasure that shot through her. She took a deep breath, adjusted her hat, and it was Berry who stepped back into the room. Quinn heard the door open, and turned her head to look and her eyes widened. Who knew that Rachel Berry had one of those? Berry smirked at her and fisted a hand over the end of the silicone cock that

now jutted from him, bigger and wider than the one he had been wearing before, and slid his fist down and up a few times, eyes closing in pleasure. He stepped over to the bed and between her legs, and Quinn tensed up. That thing was huge. It wasn't as if she was a virgin – hell she'd pushed a baby out of her – but that was months ago and she hadn't had sex in a long time. Then she felt a soothing hand on her back, stroking down her spine and lightly over her ass. “I won't hurt you,” came that low voice, and then the hand ghosted lower, finding slick folds. One finger slid gently, oh so gently inside her and she whimpered, needing more. It was quickly joined by a second, and then Berry's other hand was there too, finding her clit and pressing down on it, little rhythmic pulses that had her rocking backwards to press into his fingers. The fingers inside her curled and pulled, and she was gasping and lifting her hips into them, when suddenly they were gone and something large and cool was pressing insistently at her. She forgot that she was afraid and pushed back against it and then it was slipping inside her and those talented fingers were pressing harder against her, circling her clit, and it hurt a little but it felt so good that she didn't care. “Oh god,” she gasped “oh god, oh fuck, don't stop, please don't ever stop,” and she was pushing back into it, hard, biting down on the comforter. She was so

close. Then Berry's other hand reached around her and cupped her breast and she looked down and it wasn't Berry's hand at all. It was Rachel's hand, small and delicate, tan against her pale skin, and she bit her lip and gasped as Rachel pinched her nipple gently. Oh dear sweet Jesus. Rachel Berry was fucking her and it was the best thing she'd ever felt. She came undone. Rising up onto her knees she pressed back into the body behind her, clutching Rachel's hand to her and reaching blindly back with the other one, knocking the hat off and tangling her fingers in the long curls that fell out from underneath it. “Oh god, Rachel, I, fuck, I'm -” and then she couldn't talk any more because the climax hit her. It didn't matter that as soon as she spoke Rachel stopped pumping the dildo into her, because her fingers were still moving and oh fuck she was coming so hard she was literally seeing stars. Rachel froze as Quinn spoke. She'd just screamed her name. Her name. Not 'Berry', not just 'oh god' and 'oh fuck', but 'Rachel.' Then Quinn sagged in front of her and she wrapped her arms around her, lowering her to the bed carefully, pulling out of her. She stood there, trembling, on the verge of coming herself, biting into her lower lip with a troubled look in her eyes.

Quinn turned her head weakly, and her heart almost broke when she saw the look on Rachel's face. This wasn't the confident facade she'd been wearing all evening, this was a girl who was scared that she'd done something terrible. “Rachel,” she said softly, pulling an arm out from underneath herself and holding a hand out to her. “Come here.” Rachel took two steps towards Quinn, and took the offered hand. Her fingers were shaking, and Quinn, using reserves of strength she didn't know she had, managed to sit up and pull the little brunette to her. Silently, she reached between Rachel's legs and pulled the dildo gently out of her. Rachel shuddered and cried out and Quinn's fingers were soaked by the time she dropped the toy to the floor. Still without speaking, Quinn pushed the shirt down Rachel's arms, then took the hem of the tee and pulled upwards, pulling it up over her head. Rachel held her arms up like a little child and the look on her face was still enough to make Quinn want to cry. Under the tee she was wearing what looked like an undershirt and it took Quinn a moment to find the opening at the side. When she had, and Rachel was naked in front of her, she tugged the girl towards her again, guiding her to lie on the bed next to her.

She ran her fingers gently over the cruel marks the tight binder had left on Rachel's skin, and the brunette whimpered softly. “You're beautiful, Rachel,” she whispered, realising in that moment that she had always wanted this, somewhere hidden away. Rachel looked at her with wide, dark eyes, lips parted and vulnerable, and Quinn kissed her. It wasn't like kissing Berry had been – her lips were still as soft, but she was shy, tentative, and Quinn had to coax her. Quinn moved her lips, kissing softly over Rachel's cheek and to the tender point under her jaw, then whispered in her ear. “You made a hot boy, but I want you more.” Rachel moaned, at the words, at the kiss, at Quinn's breath against her ear, and then Quinn nipped sharply at her earlobe and the moan became a gasp. Quinn lowered her head, kissing down Rachel's throat – Rachel shuddered when Quinn's lips passed across her collarbone and Quinn filed the little fact away – and down across her chest. She ran her lips gently across the soft swell of one perfect breast, trying to kiss the red marks away, before taking a dark nipple between her lips. She had no idea where this was coming from. She didn't know what she was doing, she just knew what

she wanted to do – and what she wanted to do was make Rachel feel as good as she had felt herself. She just hoped she would be enough – Rachel had been so amazing. Quinn was almost completely inexperienced and she'd never been with a woman. Rachel was gasping and muttering meaningless sounds though, so she must be doing something right. Quinn ran a hand down Rachel's stomach. When she passed over Rachel's belly button the smaller girl tensed up and took a breath, so rather than play with the indentation the way she had been intending to, Quinn continued running her hand down. Rachel relaxed. Expecting to find tight curls, Quinn was surprised to find nothing but silky-smooth skin. She ran her fingers curiously over Rachel's smooth mound until the other girl was gasping and lifting her hips off the bed, legs falling open, and Quinn's fingers slipped a little lower and into dripping folds. Rachel keened softly and clutched at the back of her head and Quinn smiled around the nipple between her lips. Then she bit down softly and Rachel yelped, her hips jerking. This wasn't so hard, Quinn thought. The angle was a little different but she'd touched herself – although not often and never without guilt and why did this feel so right when she knew it was so wrong – enough times to know where everything was. She

circled her fingertips softly around Rachel's clit and experimentally bit down again. Rachel let out a loud moan. “Oh oh, Quinn. Harder, please, just -” Quinn wasn't sure what she meant, so she bit down a little harder, and pressed her fingers a little harder, and Rachel's back arched off the bed as she yelled. Quinn, pleased, looked up at her and moved her hand back up Rachel's body – she knew how sensitive she got herself and she didn't want to hurt her. Rachel's eyes flew open, and then her own hand was between her legs, moving furiously, and she arched harder and bit down on her lip. Then she started shaking and Quinn, furious with herself, realised that she had stopped too soon. Shit. Way to fuck up, Quinn Fabray. Rachel relaxed slowly, pulling her hand away and looking down at Quinn with a lazy smile on her lips. Quinn looked away, embarrassed and angry with herself. Rachel's smile faltered. “Quinn?” She asked, and her voice was very small – Quinn had never seen her so quiet. “Did I – I'm sorry.” Quinn's head jerked around at that, and she saw that look again. That heartbreaking vulnerable look that she never wanted to see again.

“You're sorry?” She asked. “You're amazing. I'm the one who has no idea what she's doing. And you had to ...” She blushed. “Oh!” The smile returned. “That's quite alright, Quinn. I realise that new lovers often have to take some time to understand each other's bodies, it's perfectly natural. And I'm certainly not too shy to attend to myself rather than pretend you are perfect – I'm sure with time..” She trailed off. Maybe there wouldn't be another time? Quinn laughed softly at the typical Rachel-speak, and failed to notice the worried pause. “Amazing,” she said again, and moved up Rachel's body to kiss her. Leaning back, she smirked at the thoroughly ravished woman. “I like this way of shutting you up,” she said, and Rachel was too pleased to be offended at the thought that Quinn might be saying that she talked too much. “I hope you won't mind if I use it,” and she kissed Rachel again, “all,” kiss, “the time.” Rachel, speechless for once, simply shook her head. Quinn smirked back at her, and raised herself on her elbows, looking down at the beautiful woman she was with. Right. She wasn't letting this end on that note. She sat up a little and leaned in to kiss Rachel again,

harder this time, bringing her hands in between them to cup Rachel's breasts, pinching the nipples a little. Rachel purred into the kiss and Quinn smiled, pulling away, to kiss down her body again. Remembering Rachel's reaction when Quinn had kissed her collarbones, and how she had liked having her nipples bitten, Quinn scraped her teeth over Rachel's collarbone, biting down hard enough to sting a little, before soothing the little red mark with her tongue. Rachel yelped and then moaned. “Quinn, what are you doing, I just ..” Quinn looked up at her. “And you're going to again. I want you to tell me what you like. Tell me what to do.” She smiled. “You like doing that.” Rachel laughed weakly, and then yelped again when Quinn bit her other collarbone. “That,” she said, “I like that. And when you bit my nipple – oh fuck.” She broke off mid-sentence because Quinn had licked down her chest, and bitten her other nipple sharply, swirling her tongue around it to soothe the bite. “Harder,” she whispered, and with a mental shrug Quinn bit down, hard this time – much harder than she thought she could possibly like herself. Apparently though, Rachel did, because she grabbed

onto the back of Quinn's head and yowled. Quinn smirked to herself, and began kissing her way down Rachel's body, little open-mouthed kisses of teeth and tongue, leaving red marks that faded slowly as she went. She reached Rachel's belly and licked a line down it, carefully avoiding her belly-button. “I don't like -” Rachel started to say, and Quinn nodded. “I know, baby,” she said, kissing her soft skin, and then moved further down, pushing Rachel's knees apart and settling between her legs. Rachel looked down at her with those dark eyes wide and surprised, blinking at both the endearment and the idea that Quinn was about to go down on her. Quinn smirked up at her before she leaned forward and planted an open-mouthed kiss on her mound, lips and tongue feeling how soft the skin was. Rachel must wax, she thought idly, exploring the skin. Rachel was breathing heavily, making little moans, and trying to push herself up into Quinn's mouth. "Please," she whispered. "Quinn, I need you." Quinn took her mouth away for a moment and smirked up at her. "What happened to 'I just came'?" She asked smugly,

and Rachel blushed. "You happened," she said with a breathy little gasp, and Quinn's grin grew wider, before she dipped her head again and ran an experimental tongue along Rachel's folds. Hm. Not bad. Musky, a little salty - not like honey or any of the other silly descriptions she'd read (not that she had, much), but it wasn't unpleasant. "Fuck, Quinn," Rachel groaned. "Don't tease me like that." Smiling to herself, because this was Rachel, who always knew what she wanted, Quinn ignored her completely. Just because she wanted it, didn't mean Quinn was going to give it to her. She kept on exploring, tiny little kitten licks with the tip of her tongue, broad flat sweeps, pressing, flicking, noting what made Rachel purr, what made her gasp, what made her hips jerk up. Quinn didn't want an especially hard jerk to break her nose, though, so she wrapped an arm across Rachel's hips, holding her steady. Rachel was breathing hard now, the muscles in her toned thighs flickering. She wrapped one leg around Quinn's back and Quinn could feel the muscles tensing and releasing against her. Quinn tilted her head a little to the side and she must have hit an especially sensitive spot because Rachel groaned and reached a hand down, threading her fingers

through Quinn's hair to keep her in place. Quinn looked up smugly to see that Rachel had her eyes squeezed shut and was biting her lip, her free hand draped over a breast, fingers pulling at her nipple. God, that was hot. She pressed her tongue harder, making little pulsing movements. "Quinn," Rachel gasped, in between little panting breaths. "You, your, inside me, please, I need you." Quinn smirked, the movements of her lips eliciting another gasp from Rachel. Bringing a hand up under her chin, Quinn made lazy little swirls with her tongue, and traced Rachel's entrance with the tip of one finger. "Don't fucking tease me," Rachel growled, and Quinn's breath caught a little at the tone of her voice. Holy shit. She had no idea Rachel had that in her she knew she could be demanding but usually she was just so ... whiny. This was actually commanding, powerful. She liked it. She liked it a lot, actually, which was surprising. "Quinn," and she was still growling. Quinn whimpered softly, and pressed an apologetic kiss to the slick bundle of nerves under her lips. She slid a finger carefully inside Rachel, amazed at how tight and hot she was. Jesus. If this was what it felt like for a guy, no wonder they were all such sex maniacs.

"More," Rachel demanded, and Quinn obeyed, adding another finger and pumping them slowly in and out. "Curl your fingers," she gasped, hips lifting rhythmically. "Just curl and un-curl - oh. Oh fuck, Quinn, like - like that." Quinn did as she was told and felt Rachel quiver around her. Then she had an idea. Rachel hadn't asked, but ... She bit down softly on Rachel's clit, trapping it between her teeth and flickering her tongue quickly over it. Rachel's back arched and her hand fisted painfully in Quinn's hair but Quinn didn't care - it meant she was doing this right. She curled her fingers harder and felt Rachel clamping down around her. "Fuck! Quinn, how did you, don't, I ..." Rachel was gasping and writhing under her, it was everything Quinn could do just to stay in place. Then suddenly it was easy because Rachel went stiff under her, muscles tensed. Her heel dug almost painfully into Quinn's back and her stomach was quivering under Quinn's arm. "Don't stop! Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop don't stop don't stop -" The words were a fast chant, so breathy they almost weren't words at all. Quinn had no intention of stopping. Then Rachel did - stopped talking, stopped breathing even, and Quinn could feel

her pulsing around her fingers and twitching under her tongue. Her fingers were still tight in Quinn's hair, still holding her in place, so she didn't stop. It was hard to curl her fingers now, Rachel was so tight around her, but she could move them a little, and she kept licking, until suddenly Rachel squeaked and pushed away from her, babbling almost incoherently. "No, no, stop, please, don't, I can't, you, please, no..." Quinn pulled her fingers out gently and sat up a little, looking up the bed. Awestruck. Rachel was sprawled out, tan skin shining with sweat, hair a tangled mess that was sticking to her face, to her neck and chest. She was flushed, panting. Quinn had never seen anything so beautiful. She wiped her hand off on the bedspread - it was pretty much ruined anyway - and crawled up the bed, flopping next to Rachel, draping one arm across the smaller girl. With one convulsive movement, Rachel turned to face her, and then went limp again. "I," she said, face half-buried in the comforter. "I didn't know it could be like that." "Neither did I," Quinn said quietly, moving a damp strand of hair that was tangling in Rachel's eyelashes and tucking it behind her ear. Her voice dropped until she was whispering, studying the beautiful face in

front of her. "Neither did I." She sat up and reached down to the end of the bed, dragging up the blanket that was draped there, pulling it over them both. Lying down again, she curled herself around Rachel, draping an arm around her. Rachel made a small incoherent noise, and snuggled in, burying her face in the crook of Quinn's neck, head on her shoulder. Quinn chuckled quietly to herself that was usually her position. But she rather liked being the taller one, having Rachel's head on her shoulder. She dropped a soft kiss onto the black curls, and closed her own eyes. She ached in places she didn't know she could ache in, and she couldn't entirely feel the tip of her tongue, and she was pretty sure she was going to have a stiff neck in the morning - but it was worth it. Rachel was worth it. She didn't meant to fall asleep, but she did. ---------Rachel awoke feeling hot and sticky, and her first thought was to throw back the comforter. She couldn't, though, and when she realised that was because someone else's arms were outside the blanket, pinning it down, the events of the previous night came flooding back. She turned her head, eyes wide, and yes. That really was Quinn Fabray sleeping next to her, make-up smudged, hair half-out of it's ponytail. Quinn had stayed. She vaguely remembered her pulling a blanket over them, but it was a blank

after that. She must have fallen asleep - or passed out. And Quinn had stayed. She reached a hand out, tracing the lines of Quinn's face wonderingly. She'd stayed. Quinn muttered something wordless, and moved towards her, arm reaching out for her, curling around her over the blankets and pulling until they were curled together. She made a small satisfied sound, and stopped moving. Rachel smiled. She was still too hot though. She lifted Quinn's arm off her and slid out from under the blanket. Quinn made a small sound of protestation and rolled over onto her stomach, face buried into the pillow. Rachel stood and smiled at her for a moment, and then headed into the bathroom. Shower. She was sticky and probably stank of sex. Of Quinn. Quinn woke up with a start, reaching across the bed and finding it empty. She sat up, eyes searching the room - and not finding Rachel. Her face crumpled. Of course she wasn't there. Why would she be? She pulled her knees up under the blanket and folded her arms over them, hiding her face in her arms. She'd leave. She just needed to ... to pull herself together. Then she heard the creak of a door opening and looked up with a start. There was Rachel, wrapped in a huge bath sheet that came down to her toes, with her hair up in a ridiculous towel turban. She was wet

and glowing from her shower, and Quinn felt her face break out into a huge smile. "Sorry I didn't wake you," Rachel was saying, "but you looked so comfortable and I thought why not let you sleep, it's not as if we could both shower at the same time. " She flushed. "Unless, ah. Yes. Anyway, there are towels on the counter and I have an extensive collection of products, please use whatever you like." Quinn nodded, shyly climbing out from under the blanket. It wasn't as if Rachel hadn't seen her naked before. It was just - different. She flushed when she caught Rachel staring at her, and Rachel blushed back, giving a slightly nervous laugh. Quinn had to pass Rachel to get into the bathroom, and she paused in front of the little diva. She bent forward, kissing her shyly, and was gone before Rachel had a chance to say anything. When she returned from her shower, Rachel was sitting in front of her vanity, running a brush through her mostly-dry hair. The towel had dropped down, exposing her back, smooth and tan - no lines. Huh. Quinn hadn't expected that. She stepped quietly up behind her, and took the brush from her, running it through her hair. Rachel closed her eyes and sighed, turning her head to push into the brush as it ran over her scalp. Quinn smiled, running her fingers through the silky black locks after the brush. It was weird, how natural this felt. It should have been awkward, but it

wasn't. "You know," she said conversationally, scratching a little at the back of Rachel's neck. "I was so relieved when that hat came off and you still had all of your hair." Rachel laughed and opened her eyes, looking at Quinn in the mirror. "I will never be committed enough to an amateur role to cut my hair," she said. "Perhaps professionally but even then there would have to be a very good reason." Quinn's lips twitched. There was her Rachel again. "Why did you do it?" She asked. "The whole Berry thing." "I, ah. It was Kurt's idea, really." Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow. "He saw my Berry Rayson act and said I should try it out on you guys." She blushed a little and looked away. "He said that you'd like me as Berry." Quinn blinked. "What, the glee club?"

"No," Rachel said, now blushing scarlet. "You." She looked back and met Quinn's eyes again. "Kurt's more observant than I'd realised - he said that he'd noticed me looking at you. And that I should introduce you to Berry." "He'd - me?" Rachel had done that for her? Risked everyone ridiculing her because of Quinn? Because if it had gone wrong, they would have ridiculed her. Hell, Quinn would have, even if now the thought of some of the horrible things she had said to Rachel made her feel faintly ill. She couldn't understand it. "But I've been horrible to you, Rachel. How could you ..." Rachel turned on the stool, and took the brush out of her hands, looking up at her seriously. "I just do. And I forgive you for all of that - I know that popularity is often cemented by a mutual putting-down of the less popular." She laughed, self-deprecatingly. "And I was certainly never popular. I'm annoying, I have two gay dads, I'm not thin enough and my nose is too big." Quinn's mouth dropped open. "Okay, you're annoying sometimes," she said, "and the two dads thing is just a fact but your nose is fine.

And you do not need to lose any weight." She frowned at Rachel. How could she think that? Her body was amazing. Stunning. "You're perfect the way you are." Rachel opened her mouth to protest but Quinn silenced her with a finger on her lips. "One thing," she said with a soft smile. "You talk too much. But I've found the perfect cure for that." Bending down, she replaced her finger with her lips. The kiss was soft to start with, but when Rachel moaned into her mouth Quinn tugged her up. Rachel's towel dropped off to pile around her feet and Quinn shimmied out of hers, suddenly wanting Rachel's skin against hers. She pressed up against the shorter girl and it was her turn to moan as Rachel wrapped her arms around her, and ran her fingernails softly up Quinn's back. She pulled them towards the bed, never breaking contact with Rachel's delicious lips. Last night had been intense - she wanted something else today and Rachel seemed to as well. "I was terrified last night," Rachel confessed as they tumbled onto the bed. She moved onto her side, propped her head up on her elbow and looked seriously at Quinn, free hand tracing lines up and down Quinn's arm. Quinn mirrored her, tracing her fingers across Rachel's throat and collarbones.

Rachel's eyelids fluttered for a moment. "I've never been with, well, anyone. I was just making everything up as I went along." Quinn's hand stilled her lips parted as she stared at Rachel. She'd never - then Quinn was - oh god. "All that was..." She said, pausing to take it in. Then she laughed. "Natural talent. You obviously have it in more than just singing." Rachel giggled and ducked her head. "Thank you. But you ... Quinn, you were amazing. I've heard that another person's touch is much more powerful than your own but I'm pretty certain that wasn't the only reason I climaxed so hard." Quinn chuckled. Typical honest Rachel. "I know it was you, for me," she said softly. "You were incredible, Rachel. And I said it then but in case you've forgotten - you were amazing, not Berry." She winked. "Although you did catch my eye. Kurt was quite right. But I realised that all of the things I found attractive about him were the things I find attractive about you. Not that 'd realised it until last night." She closed the distance between them and captured Rachel's lips again. "Thank you," she murmured into the kiss.

Rachel purred and wrapped her arms around Quinn again, rolling them over and climbing on top of her without breaking the kiss. Quinn groaned at the slight weight on top of her, running her hands up Rachel's back and back down again, squeezing the firm globes of her buttocks. Rachel sighed happily, and then squeaked when Quinn playfully nipped her lower lip. "I've created a monster," she joked, pulling back a little and running her tongue over her lower lip. "I have bruises all over today, and they're all from your teeth." Quinn's brows drew together, but before she could apologise, Rachel leaned back down to kiss her again. "I like them," she murmured, trailing her lips across Quinn's face, kissing her eyelids closed, and then the tip of her nose. Quinn sighed happily at the tender ministrations. It was hot, as well, that Rachel actually liked the fact that she'd marked her. "I like you," Rachel breathed into her ear, and Quinn shivered at the hot breath that brushed her skin. Then Rachel was kissing her neck, nibbling, sucking at the skin. There was going to be a mark there but Quinn didn't care. She tilted her head to give the other girl better access. She'd never let anyone give her a hickie but here she was encouraging Rachel to. She ran her palms up the brunette's back, loving the

way she could feel the toned muscles shifting under the skin, but that Rachel's skin was so soft and silky. Nothing like a guy. She curled her fingers, running her fingernails down Rachel's back, pressing just a little. Rachel hissed into the side of her neck, arching her back up into the touch, and Quinn took the opportunity to slip one hand between them while the other continued to trace patterns on Rachel's back. She cupped one firm breast, brushing her thumb over the nipple which hardened almost instantly into a tight little point. Wow. That was for her. The little gasp Rachel made into her neck was for her as well. Rachel pushed up onto her hands, and straddled her hips, hovering over Quinn with her hair hanging down around her face and screening them off into their own little cherry-scented world. "Again?" She asked playfully. "I thought it was only guys that got morning wood?" Quinn giggled and pushed her hips upwards. Rachel sighed and pushed down against her and Quinn felt wet heat against her abdomen. Quinn raised an eyebrow. "And you're accusing me of being horny," she said, trailing her hand down Rachel's body and slipping it between them, finger slipping through wetness. She'd hardly done anything.

Rachel moaned and dropped her head forwards, pressing down on Quinn's fingers. "All your fault," she gasped. "Me?" Quinn asked innocently. "You're the one who was fucking me from behind last night, you little pervert." Rachel opened her eyes wide, mock offended, and shifted to balance on one hand, sliding the other down between them, combing her fingers down through Quinn's curls. "I'm the pervert?" She asked smugly when her fingers found that Quinn was just as wet as she was. "What does that make you?" "Just as bad," Quinn agreed, curling her middle finger and sliding it into Rachel, pressing down on her clit with the heel of her hand. Rachel groaned, and echoed her. Quinn's eyes fluttered shut and she spread her legs as much as she could with Rachel straddling her. "Open your eyes," Rachel told her, low and husky. "I want to see you. I want you to see me." Quinn opened her eyes and almost had to close them again at the look on Rachel's face - so open and intense. It was as if the brunette was looking straight

through her. She shivered, and then Rachel curled her finger and Quinn's hips bucked up as she gasped. "Another?" Rachel asked, and all Quinn could do was nod. Rachel added another finger and Quinn moaned, the sound mingling with Rachel's gasp as Quinn did the same. Rachel was moving over her as she thrust her fingers in and out of Quinn, practically fucking herself on the blonde's fingers as she moved. It was a good thing, as Quinn didn't seem to have the coordination to concentrate on Rachel as well as what Rachel was doing to her. The sight of the little diva above her, riding her, breath coming short and making her chest heave, breasts quivering as she moved, was blowing her mind. How could she not have known? How could she have been blind to the sheer deliciousness that was Rachel Berry? Rachel leaned down to capture her lips in a fierce kiss, all tongue and breathy moans. "God," Quinn gasped into the kiss. "What you do to me, Rachel." "I know," Rachel said, pulling back and looking down at her. "It's what you do to me," and she leaned down and kissed her again, crying out into Quinn's mouth as she tightened briefly around her fingers. "Did you just ..?" Quinn asked, and Rachel shook her head.

"No, but ... Oh. So close, Quinn. So - fuck." She gasped and shivered and crushed her mouth to Quinn's again and Quinn wasn't sure which was turning her on more, what she doing to Rachel or what Rachel was doing to her. She moaned into Rachel's kiss and lifted her hips, spurring the little singer on to move faster, harder, anything. Rachel pulled all of the way out and then - oh god, she must have three fingers in her and Quinn was still tender from last night because it was almost too much. Somehow, Quinn managed to twist her hand around so that she could flick Rachel's clit with her thumb. She had no idea how she was managing to do anything while Rachel was doing such a good job of breaking her into a million tiny pieces. She could feel that delicious tension gathering low in her belly, pooling up until something just had to give. But she must have been doing it right because Rachel had broken their gaze and had her eyes shut tight, biting her lower lip and surging frantically above her. Then her back arched and she went statue still again, aside from her hand which was still slamming into Quinn. She stopped breathing and a shudder shook her body. Quinn could feel her pulsing around her fingers again, and she curled them hard, as hard as she could, and Rachel let out the breath she was holding with a wordless cry.

The sight was enough to tip Quinn over the edge and she cried out, tipping over just seconds after Rachel, her long low groan of release mingling with the echoes of Rachel's. The little singer collapsed on top of her, fingers still inside her. She pressed her face into Quinn's neck and Quinn could feel her lips moving soundlessly against her neck. "What?" She asked, quietly. "Rachel, what are you saying?" Rachel tipped her face sideways a little, although she stayed where she was, draped on top of Quinn. Quinn had no objections. "I was just saying how incredible you are." Quinn smoothed a hand up Rachel's back and into her hair, smoothing the silky strands, enjoying the cool feel of it against her fingers. "If I'm incredible then you're un-real," she said. "Please tell me that you don't have to do anything today. Because if you make me get out of this bed I won't be held responsible for my actions." Rachel giggled and shook her head. "Good," Quinn said, and shifted Rachel so that she wasn't lying quite so much on top of her. "Because we have a lot to learn about each other."

They had more to learn than could be achieved in one day - but they covered a lot of ground in that day. It was a very reluctant Quinn that dragged herself out of Rachel's bed that evening and headed back to her own home, dressed in some borrowed clothes of Rachel's. Not anything argyle, and there were no knee-socks - but Rachel did have sports clothes that weren't too tight on Quinn. "We'll see each other at school," Rachel said, when Quinn turned in the doorway for one last kiss. "In less than twelve hours." "I know," Quinn said. "But I can't do half of the things I want to do to you without getting us both suspended." Rachel giggled and pushed her away gently. "I really have created a monster, haven't I?" She didn't sound even slightly remorseful. "Yeah, you have," Quinn agreed brightly, and stole one last kiss before managing to tear herself away. Rachel watched her go, and stood in the doorway for a long time after the car was out of sight, staring blankly after it. Then, she shook herself and went back inside. To bed. A bed with no Quinn in it. Although not having Quinn in her bed did mean that she was going to get some sleep., which was a small plus.

Kurt was not pleased. He'd set the whole Berry thing up, and then Rachel hadn't answered her phone all day, and no texts or messages or anything. When she walked into school on Monday he cornered her immediately, too focussed on getting some answers to notice what she was wearing - until she had to tilt her hat back on her head to look at him. Berry's hat. Her hair was down, but it was definitely that hat - and she was wearing the jeans as well, with a silky camisole top. Kurt blinked. "What -" There was a bruise on her collarbone, and he wasn't stupid. "You got lucky," he said accusingly, pointing one finger at her. "You got lucky and you didn't tell me anything about it." He folded his arms and subjected her to his best pout but damn her, she just laughed at him. That cocky laugh she'd used as Berry, and for a second he saw the guy standing in front of him. This was going to take some getting used to. He refused to have a crush on Rachel Berry or all people. She was a girl. "Because she didn't leave until eleven last night," Rachel told him, and Kurt's mouth dropped open. That was - that was more then twenty-four hours. He grinned, widely. He'd totally called that one. Not only did Rachel like Quinn, but Quinn Fabray was totally gay for Rachel Berry.

"I owe you one," Rachel told him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, before turning on her heel and sauntering away. Kurt's grin only grew wider. She did, did she? Then the next big solo? Was his. ----------Summary: This was a request on tumblr for cop! Quinn. So, there we go. Cop!Quinn smut, with a little angst and fluff on the side. A/N: There are several 10-codes used in this. So here's a list of the ones used, in the order I used them: * 10-81 – status check done on officers who have not had radio traffic in an hour. * 10-55 – drunk driver * 10-37 – suspicious vehicle/person * 10-28 – license plate check * 10-27 – driver's license check * 10-12 – standby * 10-6 – busy * 10-8 – finished with assignment

The radio crackled, then came to life with a steady whine before she heard the voice. She reached towards the mic.

“Dispatch to 124, 10-81 check.” She maneuvered the car down the street with one hand on the steering wheel, the other expertly pressing the button on the mic. “10-4, dispatch,” Quinn said easily, then released the button. “Clear, zero one-hundred.” One a.m. Just six more hours to go. She’d been on edge all night, and even though she knew why, no amount of coffee or bantering around with her shift could calm her down. She suspected the coffee made it worse, but she’d developed an addiction after five years on the force, and the last year of night shift wasn’t doing its job in helping her kick the habit. She’d applied for the Lima Police Department just after her 20th birthday. They’d sponsored her through her hours of training at OPOTA, and now, at the age of 26, she was the youngest shift commander in the department. She was one of the few who had volunteered for night shift, which made her everyone’s darling, because she didn’t mind working nights, didn’t mind working weekends (except for one weekend a month, which she always scheduled off in advance), and didn’t mind working holidays.

It was better than being in an empty apartment. She turned her car down the avenue towards the shopping district, glancing into her rearview mirror. No one was following her; Lima was pretty dead at this time on a Thursday morning. Tucked into the visor was a small picture; she smiled, reaching up to run her fingers over it. Beth was ten years old now, all brown hair and green eyes, and banged-up knees. Last week she’d beat up some kid for calling another one stupid, Shelby said, and Quinn had laughed. The girl was turning into Puck, that was for sure. But there was another reason Quinn’s fingers lingered over the picture in her car, the reason the picture stayed above her head, no matter what, even after she’d totaled her first assignment during a chase after a 10-55. That reason, the second in the picture, was also petite and brunette, but this one had brown eyes and a gigantic voice that, if Quinn closed her eyes, she could still hear singing softly into her ear. She’d left after graduation. No one had begged her to stay, not even Quinn, because there wasn’t a relationship there, anyway, so she had no claim. Even if she had wanted. The little diva was making it big on Broadway, already had one Tony, and was well on her way to another one that June. She came home every month or so for a weekend, and Quinn laughed that her hands still shook every time she met Rachel for coffee in her fathers’ house. It didn’t

matter how many times those same hands had stripped Rachel naked, or how many times Rachel had kissed them, looking at her with love in her eyes. Hell, that very look still made Quinn feel like a lovesick schoolgirl. It had started unexpectedly, with Quinn running into Rachel at the store and the brunette talking so easily and pleasantly to her that it was as if they had never been enemies, never nearly hated each other – though Quinn had long suspected that it was more than hate that had bound her to Rachel, ever since they were sixteen. Rachel had invited her for coffee, and what had followed was a romance that neither of them had really planned on, but neither was complaining. The distance was hard, but somehow they made it work, even if Rachel’s dads complained that the diva spent more time at Quinn’s apartment than she did with her parents. Quinn had managed to stop crying each time Rachel left – at least until Rachel was in the air and Quinn was in the bedroom of her apartment. Then there was no one there to hear her sob. A light behind one of the empty shops in the strip mall caught Quinn’s eye, and she pulled the car into the parking lot, towards the source. She picked up her mic.

“124, dispatch.” She stopped behind the car and caught a glimpse of someone sitting in the driver’s side, talking on the phone with hands gesturing wildly. “124, go ahead.” She keyed up again. “10-4,” she said quickly, her body shifting into work mode. “Show me out with a 10-37 vehicle behind Joann Fabrics on Tenth Street. It’s going to be a blue… “ She quirked an eyebrow. “A blue Prius. 10-28s of Adam two-six William three four. That’s A26W34. I’m going to be out of the car.” “10-4, zero one twenty-five.” She put the car in park and reached across her console to grab her hat and plop it on her head, over her blonde hair held tightly in a ponytail. She grabbed her flashlight, stepping out and holding the light with her right hand, her left resting lightly on the holster at her side as she approached the blue Prius. She tapped on the window to get the passenger’s attention. The window rolled down, and Quinn shone the light through. What she saw nearly made her jaw drop. She cleared her throat. “What seems to be the problem?”

“What? Qu—“ She shook her head. “Sergeant Fabray, ma’am. Step out of the car, please.” “I will do no such thing! What is going on here?” Quinn rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth. She took a step back and regarded the small woman coolly. “Step-out-of-the-car. Please.” She heard a huff, and fought back a laugh, but schooled her smirk behind her trademark “cop face” when five-foot-two of legs, smooth tan skin, and brown hair in waves over a pair of brown eyes exited the car, slamming the door for emphasis. “Driver’s license, please.” The brunette folded her arms over her chest and glared at Quinn. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I don’t like it, Sergeant Fabray.” Quinn smirked. “Unless you want to be handcuffed and in the back of my car on the way to county, you might want to hand over your driver’s license.” She leaned forward until her lips brushed against the woman’s ear, and she grinned when she shivered. “Now.”

She backed up just in time to see the girl swallow hard, and hold out her driver’s license with a shaking hand. “Thank you, miss,” Quinn said, smiling sweetly. “Dispatch 124, status check?” Quinn tucked her lips near the shoulder mic, pressing the button. “10-4, dispatch, 27 name and date of birth out of New York, when you’re ready.” She heard the woman scoff, and Quinn winked at her. “Go ahead, 124.” “10-4. Last name Berry, first name Rachel, middle initial B as in Barbra. Date of birth 1994, twelve eighteen, 1994 twelve eighteen, 10-4?” “10-4, 10-12.” “Dispatch, I’m going to be all 10-4 out here, 10-6, no need to check.” “10-4, zero one forty-five.” Now she was positively glowering. “Quinn,” Rachel said evenly. “What the hell are you doing?”

Quinn arched her eyebrow. “Sergeant Fabray.” Rachel sighed. “Okay, then. Sergeant Fabray… what the hell are you doing?” Quinn stowed her flashlight into her belt, reaching to pull out her handcuffs and spin them lazily around her index finger. “Question is, miss, what are you doing?” She caught the merest glimpse of a fleeting smile before it was gone, replaced by a scowl – and darkening eyes above them. “I’m not playing bad cop with you, Sergeant Fabray.” She pushed off the car and Quinn backed up again, holding out her hand. “Don’t move, miss.” “Quinn—“ Rachel took another step forward. In an instant she was pinned, her stomach against the police car and her hands behind her back. Quinn cuffed her securely, resting her hand on Rachel between her shoulder blades. She leaned over and nuzzled her face against Rachel’s neck, smiling when Rachel sighed and craned her neck to allow for more access. “I told you not to move.” “Now you have me where you want me,” Rachel remarked, almost conversationally. “Perhaps I should

scream. I am in distress, after all.” Quinn laughed and pulled her hand away, only to pull out the nightstick that she kept holstered at her side and gently tapped Rachel’s thighs with them. Rachel spread automatically, and Quinn shook her head. “So much in distress that I bet you’re wet. I bet you’ve soaked through your underwear.” “No,” Rachel said, her word ending with a groan because Quinn had slipped the stick between her legs and was rubbing her, softly, back and forth. “No?” “You have to be wearing underwear to soak through them.” Quinn blinked in surprise but recovered herself long enough to still the stick, and she giggled a little when Rachel whined. “Quinn…” She maneuvered herself so that she was pressed fully against Rachel, one hand cupping her waist and the other holding the nightstick steady. She kissed Rachel’s ear, trailing her mouth downwards over the line of her neck to her shoulder, sucking the tender skin there.

“Move, baby,” she murmured. “What?” “Rachel,” Quinn growled, and pressed the stick harder against her. Rachel moaned. “I know you’re not stupid. You’re not wearing underwear; you know what you want. Take it.” “I want you,” Rachel groaned, even as she began to grind herself against the nightstick held in her girlfriend’s hand. “I want your fingers…” “Can’t get enough of them?” Quinn asked smoothly, running her free hand up to tweak a very hard nipple through Rachel’s dress. Rachel gasped. “It’s been… oh god… it’s been two months… please…” Quinn smiled and ran her tongue along Rachel’s ear, rolling a sensitive nipple in between her fingers. “Maybe I don’t want to give it to you,” she whispered. “Maybe I really, really want to hear you beg.” “You would,” Rachel pouted, grunting when Quinn began to move the nightstick again, and her hips bucked involuntarily. Quinn bit her neck, soothing it with her tongue, her

hand slipping underneath Rachel’s dress and moving upwards, over the rippling muscles of Rachel’s stomach, and the girl shuddered. Her fingers breached the cotton of her bra and cupped her breast, fingertips stroking lightly. “Well, are you going to?” “Going to what?” Rachel’s breath was coming in ragged gasps as she rode the nightstick, holding it between her thighs. Quinn shook her head. “Beg,” she said. “I want to hear you.” “You know I want it,” Rachel pleaded. “I’ve missed you; baby, I just want to feel you inside me, please.” She really wasn’t in the mood to make her beg anymore; the stick clattered to the ground and Rachel’s hands were uncuffed in an instant. Quinn cupped her waist with her hands and lifted her to the hood of the car. She was swift and smooth; Rachel was already wet and she slid in easily. Rachel’s eyes rolled backwards as she moaned; her hands came up to clutch at Quinn’s shoulders as the cop thrust steadily with three fingers. “You’ve missed me?” Quinn breathed, her face pressed against the crook of Rachel’s neck.

“Mm-hm… oh!” Rachel whimpered at a particularly hard thrust. “Let me... can I… show you?” “Fuck yes,” Quinn said, pulling out gently, long enough to unfasten her belt, laying it on the hood of the car next to Rachel and undoing her pants. Rachel’s petite fingers found her quickly and Quinn moaned, entering Rachel again and practically laying on top of her. “God, you’re so wet,” Rachel said, fingers moving slowly and Quinn rocked her hips, urging her girlfriend to go faster. “I’ve been wet ever since I got to work,” Quinn grumbled, legs shaking as she struggled to hold herself up, even as she felt the orgasm building within her. “I can’t even concentrate… god, Rachel…” Rachel’s free hand slipped into Quinn’s shirt; her fingertips trailed over a well-known scar that rested just on her girlfriend’s left ribcage. Quinn caught the tears that welled up and she kissed her quickly to distract her. It had been two years ago and they hadn’t even been dating then, but Rachel had shown up at the hospital, a hysterical whirlwind of threats to the doctors if Quinn wasn’t well taken care of. She’d even placed a call to the district attorney, who had said to Quinn – confidentially – that dealing with Rachel was more intimidating than dealing with judges.

“Baby,” Rachel groaned, her head coming to rest against the hood of the car. “Baby, please, faster…” “Dispatch, 124?” “Fuck!” Quinn swore, and Rachel laughed. Quinn glared and hit the button to her mic quickly, trying not to snap as she said, “Go ahead, dispatch.” “10-4, 27s out of New York come back valid to a Rachel Barbra Berry of Manhattan, no wants.” “Ten—“ Rachel chose that moment to pull out and thrust back in, swiping her thumb over Quinn's clit, and Quinn had to let go of the mic to slam her hand down on the hood as her knees buckled. “Rachel!” she hissed, rolling her eyes when her girlfriend giggled and eased off. “10-4, dispatch,” Quinn muttered into the mic, glaring again at Rachel. “10-4, no need to check still.” Rachel batted her eyelashes coquettishly up at her girlfriend. “Faster, baby?” she asked, moving her hips suggestively. After two months, Quinn was only happy to oblige. She rode Rachel’s fingers, hips moving almost of their own accord, even as her own fingers moved faster, as deep as she thought Rachel could handle, and soon

Rachel’s cry echoed into the cold, dark Lima morning as she pulsed around her girlfriend. Quinn followed moments later with Rachel’s name on her lips, and she collapsed on top of her girlfriend, breathing hard. Rachel pulled Quinn’s cap off, releasing the woman’s hair from its ponytail and running her fingers lazily through blonde curls. Quinn smiled and nuzzled Rachel’s cheek, feeling giddy. “No underwear?” she said wryly. “Were you expecting to get lucky?” “Not expecting,” Rachel said, sounding amused. “Just hoping.” Quinn rolled to the side, propping herself up on one elbow and hoping to god no one else came into that parking lot to see Rachel with her dress around her waist and Quinn with her pants unbuttoned. “What are you doing here?” “Car broke down,” was Rachel’s answer. “I just barely managed to pull in here. And I couldn’t get Budget to send Triple AAA. I think I’m going to send a very strongly worded letter to them about the quality of their service, and their vehicles.” Quinn shook her head and laughed. “No, I mean, what are you doing here? Your flight wasn’t due until seven.” “Oh, that.” Rachel smiled and leaned up to kiss

Quinn. “I took an earlier flight, obviously. I wanted to be prepared for you. This—“ She waved her hand at the two of them. “Well, this was a rather welcome coincidence.” Quinn captured Rachel’s lips in a kiss, moaning when Rachel’s mouth opened and their tongues met. Rachel’s fingers trailed over Quinn’s chest and Quinn shook her head, taking Rachel’s hands in hers. “Not till later,” she said softly. “Who knows when someone will come looking for me.” She stood up and buttoned her pants, putting her belt back on, and then helped Rachel to a sitting position on her car. “You’re back a month early, you know.” Rachel nodded. “I know.” “Why?” “I got tired of leaving behind something important.” There was a question in Rachel’s eyes, and Quinn smiled, kissing her gently. She’d put in her transfer to New York three days ago. “Come on.” She lifted Rachel off of her car. “I’ll drive you to your dads’?” Rachel shook her head and grinned, chewing on her

lower lip. “Your place?” Quinn tilted her head at the glint in Rachel’s eyes. “Good idea,” she decided. “And why’s that?” “Because you know these handcuffs work much better with my bed.” Rachel laughed. “This is true.” She grabbed her suitcases out of the Prius and Quinn stowed them in the trunk of her car before settling Rachel into the passenger side, then climbing into the driver’s side. She keyed her mic again. “124, dispatch.” “Go ahead.” Rachel’s hand slipped across the console to clutch Quinn’s. “Show me 10-8 from this location and en route with one white female on a courtesy escort to Maple Street.” She smiled at Rachel and kissed her hand. “I’ll be taking her home.” --------

GTL Is The Way Of Life The hallways of McKinley High were hectic as students and teachers alike rushed through the halls, eager to start their weekend on such a beautiful Friday afternoon. Rachel Berry was not one of those students. Sucking in a deep breath, Rachel hesitantly approached the head Cheerio where she stood at her locker. “Quinn, I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment?” she inquired apprehensively when she reached the blonde. Quinn arched one sculpted eyebrow inquisitively. “What about, Berry?” Rachel swallowed audibly. “I would like to extend to you an invitation to attend a small gathering at my house tonight.” “By ‘small gathering’ do you mean just you and me?” “Yes,” Rachel stated with more confidence than she felt. “By ‘small gathering, just you and me’ do you mean a date?” “Yes,” Rachel repeated, fake confidence deteriorating quickly.

Eyebrows furrowing, mouth pulling down in a frown, Quinn bit her bottom lip in frustration. “Rachel, why can’t you just ask me out like a normal person? What’s with all this ‘I’d like to extend an invitation’ crap?” Rachel’s eyes darted around the hallway, nervously checking to see if anyone had heard Quinn. “I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with the miscreants of McKinley knowing that we…go on dates. I was trying to inquire stealthily whether or not you would be-” Her sentence was cut off by a light kiss pressed gently against her lips. Some freshman boys gaped from across the hallway; a few Cheerios sneered and gossiped behind their hands; Jacob Ben Israel broke his phone in an attempt to snap a quick picture. “We’ve been on three dates,” Quinn began softly after pulling away. “I asked you to be my girlfriend after the last one. I don’t care if people hear you asking me out in the hallway, Rachel.” “Well, if that is the case, will you come over to my house tonight, as a date, Quinn Fabray?” Rachel asked, beaming. Quinn’s smile in return was just as bright. “Yes.” ***

Rachel and Quinn’s first date had happened after two months of secret longing (that wasn’t exactly a secret) from Rachel and two weeks of Santana telling Quinn to ‘just bang the wookiee already, god.’ Quinn was the one to ask Rachel out to dinner at Breadstix. Rachel dropped a meatball on her bright white skirt and Quinn choked on a crouton. After a semisuccessful evening, Quinn left Rachel at her front door with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Their second date had come one week later when Rachel cornered Quinn in a deserted chemistry classroom and asked if she wanted to go to the movies. The date went off without a hitch up until they actually arrived at the theater. Rachel stepped on the back of Quinn’s sandal, causing that back strap to tear. Quinn poured the super sized Coke onto Rachel’s lap when she tripped over her own broken shoe while trying to get to her seat. After a disastrous evening, Rachel left Quinn at her front door with one shoe and a handshake while she returned to her car with a ruined pair of jeans. Quinn had called Rachel the following day and demanded that they go on a “do over” date. They went to Breadstix where no food was spilled or choked on. Nothing climactic happened during the movie portion of the date aside from Rachel grasping Quinn’s hand in her own ten minutes in and not letting go until the credits rolled. After a wonderful evening, Quinn kissed Rachel tenderly under the dim light of

the street lamp in front of her house and asked Rachel to be her girlfriend. Rachel accepted. Now, Rachel stood by the front window and waited for Quinn to arrive for their fourth date. Soon enough, Quinn’s car rolled to a stop in front of her house and Rachel bounced to the front door, ripping it open excitedly. Quinn looked startled to see Rachel eagerly waiting for her when she finally reached the door, but she smiled shyly none the less. “Hey.” “Hi, Quinn,” Rachel greeted warmly, pulling the blonde quickly through the doorway and wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. Quinn hugged back and Rachel tried to hide the shudder that racked her body when Quinn exhaled lightly against her ear. “Hey,” the blonde murmured again quietly when she pulled back, grinning and biting her bottom lip. “Hey,” Rachel repeated, shy grin spreading over her lips before they were claimed by Quinn’s. The kiss was soft, like the one they shared under the street lamp a week ago and in the hallway earlier that day. Rachel sighed, pressing her lips a little harder against Quinn’s when the blonde’s hands tightened their grip on her waist. “You must be Quinn.”

The girls broke apart abruptly at the voice. Rachel’s Dad, Robert, stood in the entry to the kitchen, arms folded over his chest and a sly smile on his face. Rachel blushed and pulled out of Quinn’s arms completely when he raised an amused eyebrow at her. “Yes, sir, I am,” Quinn answered, sounding more professional then Rachel had ever heard before. “I’m Robert. It’s nice to meet you.” He stepped forward to shake her hand. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. Rachel talks about you all the time.” Quinn’s air of professionalism faded as she looked smugly at Rachel. “Does she?” Rachel blushed harder. “No, I don’t. Dad, stop slandering my good name; it’s not polite.” With that she grabbed Quinn’s hand and pulled her around her Dad and into the kitchen. “We’re going to watch a movie in the basement,” she said, pulling open a door by the fridge where stairs led down to the lowest level of the house. “Please refrain from spreading anymore malicious lies about me should anyone else come knocking on our door.” Robert just laughed and called out, “Alright, sweetheart. You and Quinn have fun. Just let me

know if you need anything. Snacks, pop, dental dams-” Rachel snapped the basement door closed before he could say anything else, but the damage was already done. Quinn’s eyes widened and she lost her footing on the stairs but Rachel latched onto her arm before she could tumble down the steps. “He’s kidding,” she reassured quickly. She made sure Quinn had regained her balance before letting go of her arm. “Oh. Right.” Quinn didn’t sound convinced. “What would you like to watch?” Rachel asked once they were settled side by side on the large, dark brown leather couch situated in front of the TV. “It doesn't matter.” “I… alright.” Rachel had expected Quinn to be a bit more decisive. She wasn’t quite sure what kinds of things Quinn liked to watch, so she decided to flip through the channels until she found something that appealed to both of them. After a minute of silence as she browsed through the channels, she stopped on a show where a teenage girl was having a fit in a Cadillac dealership because her father wouldn’t buy her an Escalade. Rachel was enthralled by the girl’s ability to throw a diva tantrum better than even she

could when she felt Quinn’s hand slide under hers where it rested on the couch, lacing their fingers together “Is this show alright?” “Sure,” Quinn murmured, looking at her for a long moment before reverting her eyes back to the screen. Another minute passed and the girl on screen was trying on thousand dollar dresses in front of her drooling friends. “Rachel.” Drawing her attention away from the TV, Rachel turned to Quinn, who was smiling softly at her. Quinn leaned in, kissing her softly before pulling back. “Thank you for inviting me over.” Rachel beamed. “You’re very welcome, Quinn. Thank you for coming over.” Quinn licked her bottom lip before kissing Rachel again, gliding her lips gently against the brunette’s. Rachel broke the kiss with a smile before returning her focus back to the show. Quinn sighed loudly beside her. “Rachel,” she huffed exasperatedly. When Rachel faced the blonde with a frown, clearly confused by her outburst, Quinn just raised one eyebrow expectantly. “Kiss me,” she demanded. Rachel’s confused frown stayed in place, but she did as Quinn asked, leaning in to press her lips hesitantly

to the other girl’s. When she pulled away, Quinn rolled her eyes and said, “Again.” Rachel kissed her once more and Quinn’s hand came to rest on the back of her neck, keeping her in place when she would have pulled back as the blonde pressed her lips firmly against Rachel’s. Oh. Rachel finally understood Quinn’s intent and relaxed under the blonde’s grip, tentatively returning the kiss. Quinn tilted her head slightly and snagged Rachel’s bottom lip gently between her teeth as her other hand threaded through Rachel’s hair. Rachel whimpered at the small sting Quinn’s teeth caused, but the blonde soothingly ran her tongue across Rachel’s bottom lip before the pain really registered. Before Rachel even realized she was doing it, her lips parted and Quinn’s tongue slipped smoothly into her mouth. Whimpering again when it slid against her own, Rachel lightly sucked on Quinn’s tongue. Quinn gave a quiet moan, coaxing Rachel’s tongue to follow her own as it retreated into her mouth so she could return the favor. It was Rachel’s turn to moan when she tasted the slightest hint of cinnamon on the tip of Quinn’s tongue. She pushed deeper into the blonde’s mouth wanting to taste as much of Quinn as she could. Quinn broke away to pant softly against Rachel’s lips and Rachel found she was out of breath as well. Hazel eyes fluttered open under long, thick lashes and Rachel felt her breath hitch at the dark, stormy

look in them. Quinn’s mouth was back on hers before she could catch her breath. Rachel’s arms flailed for a moment when she couldn’t think of a place to rest her hands as Quinn’s lips hungrily attacked her own. She finally settled for the blonde’s shoulders. Quinn pulled back abruptly only to reattach her lips to Rachel’s jaw, kissing a line down to her pulse point where she finally stopped to suck intently on the skin there. Rachel whimpered and pulled insistently on Quinn’s shoulders, desperate to get the blonde as close to her has possible. Quinn detached from her neck only long enough to murmur, voice low and rough, “Lay back,” before her mouth was once again on Rachel’s throat. Rachel did as she was told and sprawled back on the couch. Quinn followed, lips never leaving Rachel’s skin, and spread out over the brunette, one hand planting on the couch by Rachel’s shoulder to support herself and the other latching onto Rachel’s hip. When Quinn introduced teeth into her delicious torture, biting more than a little roughly at the point where Rachel’s neck met her shoulder, Rachel gasped and her hips jerked uncontrollably, legs spreading open before she could stop them. Quinn’s hips fell between her thighs easily and the blonde let her body press fully against Rachel’s. Quinn pulled away from Rachel’s neck despite the brunette’s groan of protest to latch back on to her mouth. Rachel kissed back eagerly, running her

hands up and down and across Quinn’s back. Her nails dug hard into the blonde’s shoulder blades when one of Quinn’s hands appeared suddenly at her breast, squeezing gently over Rachel’s sweater and bra. Rachel gasped and tore away from Quinn’s inviting lips in surprise. The hand slowly massaging her breast disappeared as quickly as it had materialized. Quinn’s dark eyes peered down at her, filled with guilt “I-I’m sorry, Rach. I’m going too fast and I should have asked before-” Rachel cut her off with a heated, albeit quick, kiss. “No, it’s fine.” Her voice came out low and husky and Rachel wondered if that was the reason the small ring of hazel left in Quinn’s eyes almost disappeared entirely, as the blonde’s pupils were completely blown. “You just surprised me, that’s all.” Rachel pulled the girl into another kiss, which Quinn returned only half as passionately as Rachel expected her to. She pulled back to find doubt still lingering over the blonde’s features, so she added, “I swear, Quinn. It’s okay. It actually felt really good.” Quinn still didn’t look convinced though, so Rachel took matters into her own hands. She reached for the hand that had been on her breast and brought it back to its previous position. Quinn swallowed and glanced questioningly at Rachel. Rachel nodded her

encouragement and returned her mouth to Quinn’s, sucking on the blonde’s lower lip, earning a whimper, before slipping her tongue into her girlfriend’s mouth. Tentatively, Quinn grasped Rachel’s breast again, running her thumb over her hard nipple where she could feel it through her clothes. Rachel groaned into the blonde’s mouth before sliding her lips to her chin and down farther to her throat where she sucked and licked greedily at Quinn’s soft skin. That seemed to kick start the blonde into action, as she stifled a whimper by biting her bottom lip and squeezed Rachel’s breast more aggressively, pinching her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Rachel pressed her thighs tightly against Quinn’s hips in response and nipped sharply at her pulse point. Quinn failed to stifle her whimper that time. Her hand slid from Rachel’s breast, down her stomach, and to the hem of her sweater. Quinn’s finger’s inched under the fabric and crawled slowly up Rachel’s stomach. Her hand covered the brunette’s breast, squeezing once before retreating and pushing the lace bra up over her breasts. “Okay?” Quinn whispered roughly into Rachel’s ear. Rachel sucked harder on Quinn’s throat and arched her back, pushing her chest closer to the blonde as a response. Quinn ran her finger tips lightly over the soft skin of Rachel’s breast before her fingers covered Rachel’s nipple, pinching and tweaking until the

brunette was squirming underneath her. When Quinn gave a particularly rough tug, Rachel whined into Quinn’s neck as her hips rocked against Quinn’s. Rachel paused in her ministrations, thinking that maybe that wasn’t okay, but Quinn only moaned and doubled her efforts on Rachel’s breast while slipping her leg over Rachel’s so one of her thighs rested between Rachel’s, pushing her skirt up dangerously high on her waist, and one of the brunette’s thighs pressed between her own. Quinn dipped her head and claimed Rachel’s lips. “It feels better like this,” she mumbled against her girlfriend’s mouth. Rachel was about to ask what felt better, but Quinn demonstrated before she could. Quinn rocked her hips down, hard, against Rachel’s; the thigh between the brunette’s grinding against Rachel through her panties. Rachel couldn’t contain her moan as a strong, hot flare of arousal shot through her. Simply making out with Quinn had turned her on beyond belief, but now, with the blonde rubbing against her there, Rachel could hardly believe how aroused she was. She wondered if Quinn’s panties were as damp as her own were. If the way her girlfriend was writhing against her was any indication, Rachel guessed that was probably the case. Quinn whimpered quietly above her and coaxed Rachel to wrap the leg not currently nestled between her thighs around her waist. Rachel gasped when

she did; it opened her up even more and the rough denim of Quinn’s jeans rubbing against her through her panties was almost too much. She was sure there would be a wet spot on the dark material when Quinn pulled away. Quinn steered them into steady rhythm. The blonde would roll her hips down against Rachel and Rachel would meet her halfway, rocking up against Quinn. The hand Quinn had on Rachel’s breast would squeeze intermittently, particularly on occasions when Rachel would jerk her hips especially hard, causing her thigh to grind more roughly against Quinn’s centre. The rhythm was lost after a few minutes when Quinn’s hand slipped from underneath Rachel’s shirt to dig into the couch as she braced herself, hips rocking harder and more insistently against Rachel’s. Rachel felt a warm sensation burning in the bottom of her stomach and she wrapped her arms around Quinn, nails digging into the blonde’s back as her own hips fought to keep up. Burying her face into her girlfriend’s neck, Rachel tried to prevent her whimpers and moans from sounding out too loudly. Quinn was panting against her ear and letting out little incoherent moans, one in particular sounding suspiciously like, “Rachel,” but Rachel couldn’t be sure because she was too focused on the fact that she could feel how hot Quinn was though her jeans as the blonde lost all sense of rhythm. She rocked their hips together

mercilessly and Rachel felt it building within her; a white, hot sensation that made her bite into Quinn’s shoulder and grind frantically against the blonde’s thigh. Rachel wanted to let the feeling wash over her more than anything, but Quinn, shaking and moaning above her, whimpered out, “Rachel, w-wait,” so Rachel did, because Quinn was so close she could practically taste it and the thought of them coming together was too appealing to pass up. Quinn crushed their lips together in a sloppy kiss, tongue sliding wetly into Rachel’s mouth, but Rachel didn’t care, couldn’t care with how amazing it felt and how close they both were to tumbling over the edge. “Rachel? Honey, are you down there?” Both girls froze instantly at the voice sounding from the top of the basement stairs. Quinn scrambled off of her girlfriend and flung herself back against the couch, combing her fingers through her mussed hair and readjusting her bunched up tee shirt. Rachel followed suit, sitting up and pulling her skirt down from around her waist. Quinn slung an arm around Rachel’s shoulders and Rachel snuggled into Quinn’s side as they pretended to watch whatever was on TV; the perfect picture of innocence. Except for Quinn’s blown pupils and flushed cheeks. And Rachel’s swollen lips and glassy eyes. And both girl’s inability to stop visibly shaking, each needing desperately to come.

“Rach, whose car is that out…Oh.” Rachel turned to face her Daddy, Ernest, who was standing stationary in the middle of the staircase. “Daddy, this is Quinn.” He smiled and nodded politely. “Nice to meet you, Quinn.” “You too, Mr. Berry.” Rachel’s eyes widened and locked with Quinn’s anxious gaze as both girls heard how husky Quinn’s voice was. Quinn cleared her throat. “You have a lovely home,” she added, voice back to normal. Ernest grinned knowingly and gestured to the TV the girls had been pretending to watch. “So, what are you two up to?” Rachel grinned brightly, smile completely fake as she turned back to the TV. “Just watching some TV, Daddy. You know, uh…” Rachel trailed off when she actually focused on the show playing. She had no idea what it was. The snobby diva from before had been replaced with a few extremely tan guys with completely ridiculous hair styles who all seemed to have an affinity for taking their shirts off. Rachel stared blankly at the screen as they danced like buffoons in a crowded club.

“Jersey Shore,” Quinn stated, when Rachel failed to complete her sentence. It was obvious that Rachel’s father had some inkling as to what they were doing before her interrupted, but Quinn was more comfortable pretending he didn’t. “Hm. I didn’t know Rachel was a fan.” “I’m not!” Rachel exclaimed, finally tearing her eyes away from what Mercedes would call a hot damn mess on the screen. “I’m not. Quinn is.” Rachel didn’t want her Daddy thinking she could actually enjoy the foolishness that was Jersey Shore. Quinn cut her eyes over to her girlfriend, glaring coldly. Rachel thought that maybe Quinn didn’t want her Daddy to think that about her either. Oops. “Ernest! Babe, wait! Don’t go down…” Robert’s voice boomed down from the kitchen and was followed by hurried footsteps down the basement stairs. “…there.” He looked apologetically at Quinn and Rachel as he stood on the step above his smirking husband. “Sorry, girls. I was in the bathroom when he got home. Otherwise I’d have stopped him.” Rachel huffed out a frustrated sigh. If her Dad had stopped her Daddy, even for three more seconds, she and Quinn both would have…

Rachel met Quinn’s eyes, still darker than normal, and knew her girlfriend was thinking the exact same thing. --------------The Mistakes That Lead Me To You One Rachel watched enviously as Noah Puckerman popped the top off another beer bottle with his lighter, carelessly letting the tiny metal cap fall to the cemented floor of the garage. The girl had spent the better part of a year failing at perfecting that particular skill, ever since she saw him do it seven months ago: the date of their first ever coupling for honorary bro's night. It had started because of an audition. Most things did where Rachel Berry was concerned because her big dreams of her name on a marquee sign in the bright lights on Broadway would have it no other way. She was auditioning for the role of Maureen in a local community theatre production of Rent and she feared she wouldn't be able to fully grasp the character without experiencing feelings of rebellion for herself first hand.

Noah suggested getting drunk—which was his customary answer for everything, since he was always trying to get in her pants because she was a hot looking Jew and he just couldn't help it—but Rachel refused to attend Noah's regular bro's night on Saturday with all the guys. Usually, he would've just stopped trying to help after that but Rachel was his best friend, had been for as long as they could remember. They're parents had been good friends since they were young, well, just his mom, since Noah's dad hadn't ever shown up for anything, least of all to the Synagogue. At first, they were just dragged along by Rachel's two gay dads and his mom, when they conversed over lunch after Temple was over, but after a while Rachel took it upon herself to make them friends. She had said it would be a beneficial endeavor for both of them to make these Saturday lunches somewhat tolerable by mutual friendship. He agreed to get her to stop talking and things just escalated from there until she was the first number he called when his dad left. "Berry, stop looking at me like that. It's not my fault you have no hand-eye coordination," Noah ordered before opening another bottle to hand to her. Rachel's eyes narrowed dangerously to the point that the black sweatshirt he had on looked like a pin-pick against his tan skin. Noah just looked on, somewhat

nervously, as he ran his left hand over his practically shaven off Mohawk, his brown eyes blinking rapidly in wait for the explosion. "I resent that, Noah! You know very well my hand-eye coordination is above par. I play the piano, I am sufficient at playing the guitar and I beat you all the time at every video game you own! The only reason I can't open the bottle with your lighter must be because of your inadequate explanation on how it's done. Furthermore—" "Jeez, I like you better when you're drunk. You're a normal person when you're blitzed and stop calling me, Noah. How many times do I have to tell you—" "That you prefer to be called Puck because you don't want to be associated with some pansy that built a boat to save the giraffes," interrupted Rachel with a slight sigh as she took a sip of her beer. "I remember, I just don't care. Your given name is an important part of your identity and while I'm forced to tolerate your use of multiple names for me, because you refuse to see reason, I will not participate in such an act—" "Stop, please. You're ruining my buzz," he whined in a way only he thought was manly. Rachel rolled her eyes. "Fine, lets play video games. You have that shooting game out here, right?"

"Duck Hunt, Berry. Duck Hunt. We've been over this a thousand times. Do you just do it to torture me?" Noah groaned, almost sounding like he'd been fatally wounded. "Like you, with your sexual innuendos to get in my pants?" Rachel asked, the amusement in her eyes dulled down by the haze of intoxication. "But to answer your question, yes. What else am I going to do for entertainment when I'm sitting on a lawn chair in your garage with only a faulty twelve-inch sometimes colour television and a cooler full of melted ice and lukewarm beer? I must say this is the worst bro's night you've organized thus far." Rachel took a sip of her beer, waiting for him to respond. She knew the moment she got there something was up. They'd only be in the garage if Noah had something to say that he didn't want his mother to hear. Unfortunately, it took a while for him to get to the point, something that annoyed her greatly, as she enjoyed the blunt and honest approach herself. Rachel was just lucky that dressing in jeans and her favourite gold star hoodie, instead of her usual short skirts, made it easier to discourage his advances because she'd be freezing right now. "Yeah, well, I forgot about it until you called me. I think it's pretty good for the fifteen minutes I had." She rolled her eyes again—a go to reaction when

faced with her best friend—before draining the last of her beer with an embellished gulp. She may not have got the part—apparently she was too young which was a gross exaggeration since the woman that got the role had to be over forty—but Rachel's ability to hold her alcohol and even tolerate the cheapest beer from 7-Eleven had drastically improved. "What, too busy deep cleaning another woman's pool to remember me?" she murmured sarcastically while retrieving another beer from the cooler between them. "No," he growled and when his fists clenched at his sides, Rachel placed the bottle down on the cement next to her foot so she could turn to face him. "What's going on?" she asked softly. "It's not your dad is it?" Noah shook his head, still looking straight ahead at his front yard. His sister's bike was sprawled across the sun-scorched lawn under the faulty streetlight that would periodically flash on and off, illuminating the neon reflectors on the bike's handlebars. They were surrounded by an eerie silence, that was always somewhat comforting, until the neighbours dog started barking at shadows that skittered along the ground with the moon. Rachel just took in the lackluster scenery and waited; it was all she could do. If she pushed anymore they'd be out there all night. It already happened once and her chiropractor had

made a fortune fixing her posture after she spent hours uncomfortably slumped in a lawn chair. Never again. "I slept with, Quinn," he finally answered and Noah was determined not to look at her because he didn't want to see her reaction. Rachel was always disapproving of his 'older' conquests, but only enough to comment sarcastically at their expense. The ones from school she was a lot less lenient on and she usually lectured him for hours about how self-esteem issues in teenage girls were directly related to being promiscuous. This time though, with Quinn Fabray, well, it would definitely be worse than that—a whole lot worse. "What?" she all but growled. Her voice was almost unrecognizable and he swallowed as much beer as he could. ------Two Noah Puckerman was pretty much desperate. Like he'd suspected, his confession during bro's night, didn't go over very well with his slightly insane—albeit functional—best friend.

It wasn't his fault, really it wasn't. When he agreed to be friends with Rachel Berry, he was like six years old. How was he supposed to know that when she grew up she'd want girls just like him? They were bros, so when she confessed to him that she had a crush on Quinn Fabray, he treated the situation as such. Guys—well, except for Finn—didn't make a big deal out of stuff like that. As it turned out, Rachel was a lot like Finn—or Finn was a lot like Rachel, which actually made more sense—and now she wasn't talking to him. Puck had tried everything. Leaving voicemails, emails, buying her stuffed animals with remorseful sayings stitched into their stomachs, even singing Christina Aguilera songs outside of her window in the dead of night so nobody at school, that happened to be passing by, would know it was him. But still, nothing. Berry had even ditched bros night, which was like sacrilegious—seriously, she drew up a contract with rules and everything—and his mother had started in on the Jewish Guilt soon after that. If he had to hear one more sad sigh about how she missed Rachel or how Rachel would've been able to understand the significance of Chuck and Sarah uniting as a couple, he was going to murder someone. So, he was on his way to the home base of Homo-

Explosion. She was always on him to join that stupid club and Puck was hoping that embracing his inner dancing queen would at least be enough for a face-toface. Surprisingly, there was no glitter on the walls or people rain-dancing to Elton John. It was just a normal classroom with a piano and these giant risers against the back wall. The members of the club—well, there were only five of them so it was more of a gathering—were standing in a line singing about a boat. When Rachel pushed that wheelchair kid towards him, he shook his head and stepped out of the way to allow the kid to whiz by into the hall. "Jeez, Babe. Vehicular Manslaughter, really?" Rachel stopped with the ridiculous dance moves and turned to look at him, hands on her hips in her patented indignant pose. "I'd hardly call it vehicular, Noah," she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, a murder rap at this point of my career would be incredibly hard to overcome without the fame and monetary backing Broadway will eventually grant me." Puck turned to watch the kid wheel himself back into the room with a disgruntled look on his face. Wheels made a show of glaring at Rachel in annoyance and parking himself beside that stuttering Asian girl before

Puck thought of a comeback. "He's on wheels, isn't he?" Puck replied with a smug smirk that only served to infuriate Rachel even more. The Diva huffed in annoyance and Puck had to stop himself from laughing at the scared faces in the room at hearing Rachel's rant on murder. He had a rep to protect, after all. "Well, you can leave now," the girl went on, completely oblivious to the bodies around her inching away to safety. Puck shook his head and walked further into the room. "No can do, Berry. I haven't auditioned yet." That curly haired teacher that had thus far served as background scenery—Puck thought he might've been the Spanish guy—seemed to perk up at the announcement. He clapped his hands together in this creepy overly enthusiastic way before walking towards him. "Another audition, this is perfect. We've been looking for a leading man. Nobody quite has the right chemistry with Rachel yet, but you already seem to be friends so this will work out perfectly." Puck turned to survey the rest of the group. Obviously wheels wouldn't work and that gay kid he threw in the

dumpster every morning was there beside that girl that was named after the car she was conceived in. He could see why the teacher was desperate, Rachel was awesome and the choices for a leading man, we're, well, not. "Oh, I'm sure we'll have all the chemistry you need," Puck murmured, raising his eyebrows up and down Rachel's way. "Mr. Schue," Rachel started, taking a couple steps forward with her face pinched in annoyance, "I must object. Noah has no leading man potential. He has no regard for the feelings of the other performers around him and I can't work with somebody that cannot be there for me during my times of emotional vulnerability on stage. We are just an impossibility for compatibility." "Don't you have no regard for the other performers around you?" the gay kid scoffed but quickly stepped behind Toyota—no that wasn't right—when he received glares from Puck and Rachel for his comment. Schuester sighed and turned to look at Rachel pleadingly. "Can we just give him a chance? We don't have enough members as it is and we need all the help we can get to get enough members for Invitationals."

Rachel reluctantly nodded and Puck smirked victoriously. "Come on, Berry, you know you can't resist this. I have the perfect song for us to sing." She rolled her eyes and pushed passed him to walk towards her backpack resting on the risers. Rachel quickly pulled out some paper and came stomping back, shoving half of the sheets into his chest. "No, this is the perfect song to sing. It will prove to me that you have the emotional fortitude to be my equal on the stage," she explained with a smug smile, just challenging him to disagree. "You still want to audition?" He looked at her for a moment longer before looking down at the sheets in his hands. This was apparently what she wanted for penitence and Puck just wanted this nightmare to end. He quickly scanned the lyrics and took in the title, looking up at her incredulously. "Really, Berry?" She just shrugged and turned towards the piano guy to signal him to begin playing. The tune started and Puck looked over at her a couple bars before the first verse. "If I sing this, you'll talk to me?" he hissed, deciding to ignore the wide eyes gazing at them as their audience began to recognize the song.

Rachel turned and smirked in a way that was entirely too familiar for his liking before shrugging. "I'm not sure yet, but it will get you closer than you were yesterday." Sighing, he looked down at the sheet of paper again and with great reluctance sang, "Everyday is so wonderful, then suddenly, it's hard to breath…" --------Three Quinn hurried from her last class towards her locker, books pressed into the front of her cheer uniform with only one of the straps of her backpack hanging off her shoulder. It was times like these that Quinn Fabray loved being on top. She liked how people parted for her when she walked down the halls, hugging their lockers while their eyes tracked her every move. It didn't matter how they looked at her—though the stares usually fluctuated somewhere between lust, awe and envy—because their gazes were just a magnification of the attention she was looking for. It made her feel important, reinforcing the fact that in the grand scheme of things, she was significant and Quinn would seek after that feeling as long as it was available.

Of course, she'd rather not have to deal with making small talk—basically putting the effort in to reap the rewards of other's enthrallment—and giving people she really didn't care about the time of day wasn't really of interest to her. Luckily, there weren't many obstacles that her status couldn't handle. People rarely made waves to change their position in life and high school was no different, especially in Lima, Ohio. In this town, people were just content to hang on to what they had and as long as they weren't sinking, they'd never fight for something better. Quinn wasn't one to be content with mediocrity, though. There were always some people that had more drive than the rest—it was just how society worked—the survival of the fittest and all that. Not everybody could be a leader and Quinn was hard pressed to give anybody that followed behind her attention, unless it was to remind them where they belonged. It might sound mean, or completely abhorrent, but that was how things were. She just had this ability to compartmentalize and Quinn knew it was bad to be the way she was, being able to do the things she did with little or no guilt. It had to be, at the very least, unhealthy in someway. But, it was all she knew and she didn't even question

it anymore because there was just no other way for her to be. From a young age, her parents seemed to carelessly dismiss her older sister, as someone worthy of carrying on the Fabray name, and had instead focused on honing her to be the perfect little girl that they always wanted. When Quinn was growing up, she was showered with her parent's attention. She was that girl that came home excitedly displaying her grades in search of her father's praise. He'd scoop her up and tell her how wonderful she was and how proud she made him, while her mother posted her work on the fridge. Of course, as she got older the blatant affection quickly turned into gifts—her laptop, her car, her credit card— but he still told her he was proud of her whenever she lived up to expectations. As it was, she rarely went against his wishes after her sister left. Lindsey just seemed to have a knack for screwing up until she went away for college and Quinn didn't want to disappoint her parents like that. Her sister leaving was the last time Quinn had ever seen her, besides the odd card around the holidays, and she never really knew why her sister hadn't come back. Her daddy just always got so agitated when Lindsey was brought up, so it was most likely something horrible. Shaking her head, Quinn arrived at her locker and Finn was unfortunately already looming over it. Dating

the school's quarterback was part of the job of being head cheerleader and she supposed Finn Hudson was a small price to pay to be on the top of the pyramid. The fact he was good looking made it somewhat easier, well, if he didn't talk or block the sun by standing in front of her. "Hey, Quinn," he exclaimed brightly with his usual child-like excitement. Finn's wide blue eyes bore into her, like he was pleading for a prize, while he ran his hand through his short hair, making it stick up even more erratically. Sighing, she tossed her books into her locker and quickly slammed it shut. "I got to go. See you after practice." She leaned up to kiss his cheek before swiftly making her way through the hall. Instead of heading to the doors that lead to the football field, Quinn took a sharp left into the washroom. She glared at a freshman applying lip-gloss in the mirror and the girl quickly scurried out the door leaving Quinn alone. It wasn't until she was safely locked in the stall furthest from the door that her façade crumbled into a heap of rubble at her feet. Quinn had been fine until she saw Finn. She'd been kind of hoping she wouldn't see him again. The morning with him waiting in the exact same spot had already been bad enough to

force her off campus for lunch. Finn was just always good at showing up when she didn't want him around and bailing when she needed him the most. It probably had a lot to do with his simple nature—the educational system left him behind a long time ago— and the maturity of a four year old he displayed proudly like it wasn't embarrassing at all. Finn was easily bribed with candy, threw tantrums when he didn't get his way and she could usually spell out words around him if she didn't want him to know what she was trying to say. Truthfully, maintaining their relationship took a lot more work than she was used to because Finn really liked her. She looked at him as a means to an end, while his eyes zeroed in on her like she was his whole world. A large part of her knew it wasn't fair to him— she only really started dating him to soften her image with his awkward boyish charm—but the feeling of being somebody's everything was intoxicating. Somehow, Finn's dopey starry-eyed gaze felt like an entire football stadium had their eyes on her every move. It was that feeling of walking the halls times an infinite number and when he'd look at her for a little too long, she'd get light-headed while a sweeping surge of warmth rushed through her body. Sometimes she wondered if that was what love felt like because her mom stared at her dad that way too. Maybe she and Finn could get married and get the white picket

fence together, just like she'd always wanted. Only something always felt wrong whenever she tried to picture a future standing with Finn Hudson by her side. Perhaps, it was that feeling that drove her to rebellion for the first time in her life. Coach Sylvester had been on her to lose five pounds and Finn didn't seem to understand that when she asked him if she looked fat, he wasn't supposed to say yes. Puck had been sweet-talking some girl in the hall, telling her she was hot and wonderful, and at that moment, Quinn decided she needed that more than anything. She told him to bring alcohol, he showed up with wine coolers and she drank way too much. Now, a month later, she was all alone in one of the gross bathroom stalls at school, clutching a deep blue box as hard as she could in her shaking hands, so it wouldn't fall to the floor. She was a week late and it would've been fine if she could remember anything about that night, except the morning when she woke up naked, suffocated by the smell of sex and Puck's cologne. The helpful picture directions on the box started to blur, as tears were leaking from her eyes and dropping like bombs against the box's edge. She wondered if this was God's way of punishing her for straying from her chosen path and the only way to absolution was following the steps on the box until

she got the answer that she just couldn't admit to herself. Maybe if her boyfriend had actually been hooked on phonics and wasn't as sharp as a bowl of Jell-O or Puck hadn't taken advantage of her while she was drunk and feeling fat, this wouldn't be happening right now. Going through the motions of the test and waiting a lot longer than necessary to look at the results. No, it probably wouldn't be happening at all. When Quinn finally exited the bathroom—the redness of her eyes barely noticeable after an extensive use of eye drops—she caught sight of Berry using her man hands to drag Puck by the arm through the front doors of the school. Rachel Berry—the annoyingly obnoxious, loud mouth Diva that hardly looked at her at all—was pulling away the boy that would never know he was a father. Quinn would go to the grave denying the truth because she was pregnant and the baby was his. Puck knowing would only make it worse. --------Four

Sometimes, being friends with Noah Puckerman was a whole lot more trouble than it was worth. He was brash, insensitive and his questionable hygiene left little to be desired. The whole badass code of conduct he lived by—consisting of specifically selected shirts that showed off his guns, a long strip of hair on his head, he insisted on calling a Mohawk, and the perfected art of a well-timed innuendo—usually made her want to slap him upside the head for the things he did in the name of his lackadaisical outlook on life. This, of course, was one of those times. Rachel watched incredulously, as Noah proceeded to rip open packet after packet of Sweet'N Low and dump the contents onto the table in front of him. The tiny grains scattered across the battered wood haphazardly, some nearing the edge and jumping off, before he'd sweep the mess into a pile and start all over again. Usually, he could be amused with much less destructive pastimes: like making a straw snake or hitting on their waitress with cheesy one-liners. Unfortunately, Marylyn was pushing fifty in sensible heels with a deplorable smoker's cough and even Noah had some standards. Finally, when he moved on to real sugar, Rachel couldn't help but ask. "What are you doing? You are aware that this little mess you're making just bumped

up our waitress' tip to twenty percent, right?" He looked up and shrugged before gleefully turning over the sugar dispenser and watching the resulting carnage with a delighted look in his eye. "Don't worry about it, Babe," he mumbled distractedly. "I got it covered. Cleaned Hudson's pool last night." "Oh God," Rachel shrieked, shaking her hands in front of her face like she was trying to get something disgusting off, "Mrs. Hudson, seriously? She's like… Noah, your behaviour is completely revolting and my appetite for the tofu scrambled I ordered is utterly ruined. How am I supposed to finish the entire to-do list I have compiled for the next twenty-four hours, when I'm missing out on the nourishment afforded to me by the most important meal of the day?" He looked up, almost preening in satisfaction with a faraway look in his eye. It made Rachel's stomach churn at the very thought of what he seemed to be reliving. "Yeah, the pool hadn't been properly maintained. It took a little extra effort to get it running smoothly again," he quipped with a smug smirk at the obvious revulsion on his friend's face. "Ugh," Rachel cried, covering her ears in desperation, "please stop. While I admire the initiative of your pool

cleaning business, I do not need to hear about the unsavory aspects of such an operation, especially when it involves previous acquaintances." Noah leaned back in their booth, the awful red vinyl shrieking in protest underneath him. "Well, that should teach you to never make me sing chick songs in public again." "You did that in penitence for your misgivings," she exclaimed in exasperation, deciding to throw her hands up in the air for a little extra emphasis. "If you want me to forgive you, I assure you, this current tactic is not the road best travelled." Noah sighed, while awkwardly fiddling with one of the tiny cotton candy pink packages he'd already ripped open. Silence engulfed their easy banter and they just sat across from each other, not sure what to say next. Truthfully, Rachel really wasn't that angry anymore. By the time she stormed out of bros night—with Noah not so subtly tailing her home to make sure she was safe—and collapsed under the covers of her bed, the anger just kind of left her in a whoosh. It was more frustration—and her love for stuffed animals—that spurred her to keep the charade going. It was hard wanting the most popular girl in school because everybody wanted the most popular girl in school. Being admired was what made Quinn popular

and at the end of the day even being best friends with the star running back on McKinley's abysmal football team didn't help Rachel crack the top one hundred list for people Quinn Fabray would want to date, let alone talk to. Sure, Rachel wasn't slushied anymore—after Noah's mom got wind of the football team's favourite pastime and demanded her son fix it or else—or taunted by big meaty oafs in Letterman jackets but Rachel Berry was an entity sitting outside of the popular circle looking in. And, she was fine with that. Sometimes, Rachel wished for the acknowledgement she knew she deserved—as a future star in the making—and the flattery of people wanting to be just like her. It was only natural, really, to want those things—everybody wanted to be accepted—but the cost of such status far outweighed the rewards. Music was her life, it had been for as long as she could remember, and cheerleading was a popular girl's life. There was no room for anything else; Coach Sylvester's meal supplement drink—patent pending— made sure even sustenance paled in comparison. So, yes, she was a little jealous of Noah. He got to be around the girl she wanted the most, talk to her, basically do everything Rachel wished she were allowed. He had the right prerequisites—popularity,

over confidence, a Y Chromosome—to be with Quinn Fabray: head cheerleader, Christ Crusader, Celibacy Club founder. He was everything Rachel was not and she was never great at accepting the shortcomings that prohibited her from obtaining her goals—she just wanted it too much. "Here you go, kids," a deep gravelly voice interrupted, making Rachel twitch in surprise. Marylyn—with her rudy-red lipstick accenting her crooked smile and bright genuine eyes that gave Rachel the feeling that she had known her for forever —placed their meals on the table in front of them before walking away. Noah had enough meat piled on his plate that she was sure they'd butchered a poor defenseless pig in the back alley, just for him. He got the same thing every time, taking advantage of being away from his mother and her oppressive rules against eating any pork related products. Usually, his plate would already be halfway clean by now but Noah seemed distracted with staring at the marvel that was his artificial sweetener and sugar mountain slowly collapsing into a grainy puddle across the table.

Rachel was just about to say something, when he looked up and his eyes had a genuine tint to them that she hadn't seen in a long time. "I'm really sorry, Rach," he sighed, running a hand absently over his self-proclaimed Mohawk. "I just… wasn't thinking, I guess. She called me over and told me to bring alcohol…I'm just used to that meaning something more so I didn't think about anything else but getting that…and I wouldn't of…" Rachel smiled softly; he always had trouble articulating apologies. The only two he'd ever given her before this were the exact same jumble of words and she decided that was enough. Sure, he broke almost all the commandments in their friend contract, that she had him sign when they were young, but they weren't six anymore. This was new ground for them and he'd been so understanding when she confessed she might like girls a little more than boys that it was only fair she afford him the same consideration back. Any big confession was followed by an adjustment period and this had been their first test. "Okay, I have decided to be the bigger person and outwardly acknowledge my acceptance of your apology," Rachel confessed and when he looked up at her with such a relieved expression, she added, "But, you're staying in Glee or I'll withdraw my easy

compliance and I'll tell your mother about these little pork runs you make me a co-conspirator in every week." He sighed loudly—and grumbled what sounded like many curse words under his breath—before nodding his head with extreme reluctance. Rachel beamed and picked up her fork, her tofu scrambled suddenly smelled heavenly. She made a mental note to add time on her to-do list for drawing up a new friendship contract to include more gender specific rules in Noah's personally crafted—and named—spank bank category. --------Five "Babe," Puck whined, before reluctantly following after a speed walking Rachel, who had jumped from his truck the moment it was parked. "What's the rush?" Rachel turned to look at him over her shoulder, an impressive mixture of exasperation and disbelief in her eyes, while she still somehow managed to eagerly scramble towards his front door as well. "You know it is most imperative that I arrive early to prepare for a television lineup of Monday's caliber. Not doing so would just be crass and insulting, not to mention incredibly irresponsible."

Puck shook his head at her superior tone and the fact that she was so passionate about something as mundane as television. Rachel was always so full of life, even when it dealt her a shitty hand. She never really talked about it, but Puck knew being the daughter of the only men in town not on the down low was pretty tough on her. He didn't really understand why people gave her a hard time. Sure, the idea of two dudes together was kind of gross—the whole pitching and catching thing was just as terrible as when Rachel tricked him into watching Brokeback Mountain by telling him it was a movie about poverty-stricken environmentally conscious cheerleaders trying to save their town's mountain from demolition—but her dads were still pretty cool. They were much more chill about the pork thing and they always invited him over to watch football on their big screen every Sunday. Puck didn't really know a lot about the whole gay relationship thing or whatever but they stuck around for Rachel. That was more than his old man ever did. Rachel's dads really loved her, probably a little too much. It was the reason they moved from New York to this crappy town when Rachel was five, just to give her the white picket fence childhood they never had. Both worked long hours too—so they could pay for

whatever Rachel wanted—and that didn't leave them time to be at home a lot either. It was why Rachel was at his house every Monday night to watch TV with his mom—not to be confused by Thursday night when they'd watch Golden Girls box sets and play Canasta—gobbling down kettle corn because it didn't need any real butter. Puck didn't really mind. He usually took the time his mother was distracted to call up one of his many frequent flyers to take them out to the lake for some quality time in the flatbed of his truck, but tonight he honestly didn't feel like it. He hadn't since Quinn. That night would run through his mind a lot—because, come on, Quinn Fabray was smokin' hot—and he'd get this feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost like when he drank that month old milk when the guys dared him to for twenty bucks. Remembering being with other girls had never felt like that before and the whole thing was just throwing him off his game. Puck would ask Rachel—since it seemed like that stuff chicks would know—but he didn't want to hurt her again by rehashing the past. Besides, she had barely forgiven him last time and he didn't want to go through that hell again. He could hear Rachel in the living room with his mom

when he finally got into the house. Puck leaned briefly against the wall in the hallway, just out of sight from both women currently greeting each other with joyful smiles. "Rachel," his mother cried with her arms stretched so wide they were locked at the joints. "It's been ages since I've seen you." Rachel nodded before stepping into the waiting embrace excitedly. Puck swore they were two seconds away from bouncing up and down but Rachel pulled away before it got that far, so she could talk, of course. "Oh Sarah, I know," she sighed, her breath hitching almost like she was about to cry at the reminder of their week apart. "Unfortunately, our forced separation was most necessary or a lesson would've gone forever unlearned. I could not allow such a situation to occur and become an underlying unrequited resentment that would fester until it was one my and Noah's friendship might not recover from." His mom nodded, looking mildly curious at the reasons behind their fight, since neither of them had told her, before she said, "You think my boy actually learned something?" Rachel tilted her head to the side and an amused smirk quickly found its way onto her face. "I assure

you, the lesson was extremely memorable." When they started talking about how distasteful Rachel found some nerd guy to be, Puck quickly bailed. His room wasn't much: just a bed, his guitar and a long since broken dresser for his clothes. But, the food he had forgotten to eat gave the room a lived in smell and that was definitely much better than that fake lemon crap his mom kept trying to get him to use. Puck didn't need a whole lot anyhow and getting what he did need was never a problem. He was resourceful, running a successful pool cleaning business in Lima, Ohio was proof of that. Most of the money from his mom's paycheck after bills and stuff went to his younger sister Hannah anyway. She deserved it much more than he did. Grabbing the beer leftover from yesterday's midnight 7-Eleven run, he stuffed it in his backpack and tossed the straps over his shoulders. Having his hands free made it easier to hoist himself out his window and up to the roof. He liked it up there and it was far enough away from the living room that he could avoid whatever freaky chick stuff was going on inside. Digging through his bag, he opened a can of beer and drank as much as he could before he ran out of breath. Unfortunately, it didn't help get Quinn out of his head but he drank what was left anyway and

chucked the can off the roof in frustration. "That was entirely too close to hitting me," Rachel huffed indignantly, her head just visible over the eavestrough. Puck looked over at her, watching as Rachel struggled to safely pull herself through the window. She always hated the climb up but loved the view once she was there, something about the stars. "No, it wasn't," he laughed smugly, daring Rachel to disagree with a smirk. "You're just grandiose." Rachel seemed mildly impressed before that look was replaced by a bright smile at the fact she had successfully maneuvered herself up on to the roof without injury. Of course, seconds later, in true Rachel Berry fashion, she was staring at him with a speech at the ready, once again. "Noah, I'm quite impressed by your verboseness lately. I have no doubt the Word of the Day Calendar I purchased for you is responsible." "Huh?" Puck looked momentarily confused, trying to remember where he'd heard the word he used earlier and if he actually did have that calendar to thank, even if it was extremely unlikely. "Oh, I re-gifted that thing last year to my sister. Grandiose was the name of the girl in the porno I watched last night."

The smirk on his face perfectly matched the overt wink he sent her way and Puck waited for the lecture he knew was coming. Rachel might like girls but she wouldn't dare objectify them. After all, she was a fembot at heart. Rachel scoffed at the comment, effectively shutting him down with a roll of her eyes and a heated glare before she launched into her speech. "Really, Noah? I've expressed my views on Pornography to you a countless number of times and it's disconcerting that you still insist on viewing such trash that uniformly portrays women as passive objects for a man's sexual urges. It is utterly sexist, completely devoid of class and it could possibly be the driving force behind the lack of respect the female gender receives in society today. The mere fact that you insensitively throw such a thing in my face makes me wonder why we're even friends." Puck wasn't too bothered, since the tiny brunette was now crawling towards him, sadly in jeans and a McKinley sweatshirt that looked suspiciously like his. It was many sizes too big and the sleeves were rolled up in to giant balls on her arms. The rest hung off of her like a bed sheet but she definitely looked hot, would've looked hotter if she was still wearing the short skirt she had on earlier. Rachel stopped beside him, stretching out her legs

and leaning back so her arms would hold her upright. She glanced up at the thousands of stars above them —there were so many out tonight that the sky was lighter than it was dark—and the light breeze blew at her hair, jostling the curls just enough to force the brunette to reach up to move them out of her face. Rachel really was beautiful; she was probably the only girl in the whole world he ever thought that about. "Why aren't you watching your crappy spy show?" he asked instead, knowing if he responded to anything in her rant, he'd never hear the end of it. She turned to look at him with a small smile and a shake of her head. "When I chanced entrance into your room to find a sweater and didn't find a scantily clad Santana Lopez glaring back at me like the last time, I decided something must have been bothering you. So, as it is important to me to excel at everything I do, I risked my life scaling buildings like any exceptional best friend would for the chance to talk to you." Puck snorted, completely amused by her motives, and when Rachel gave him a look of disgust in response to the sound, he was full out laughing in her face seconds later. Rachel just rolled her eyes and pulled out a water bottle from the front pocket of the sweatshirt she borrowed. "You sure you didn't just want to get me alone," he

teased raising his eyebrows up and down flirtatiously. "I know stars are on your checklist for when you tear a hole in your Berlin Wall." She looked totally scandalized—all narrowed eyes and a disgruntled frown—and it had been just what he was going for. Puck liked being offensive, especially with Rachel because she responded so dramatically, but he wasn't actually being serious half the time...with Rachel. He just found her angry ranting amusing and it was important he be entertained. "You are completely revolting and while a starlit sky does produce a rather romantic atmosphere that directly correlates to my inner being," Rachel paused to look up at the sky, the stars twinkling obnoxiously back at her in total kinship to their leader. "I'd never loose my virginity to you, Noah and please refrain from turning everything I said into an innuendo just this once." "Fine, babe, you're loss is another girl's gain," Puck scoffed with a slight shrug. "If you want to hold out for a night of mirrors on the ceiling and pink champagne on ice, you'll be waiting a hell of a long time." Rachel shook her head with a small sigh. "I'm very much saddened that you, and the hugely popular classic rock band, the Eagles, find such a scene romantic in any capacity but really, Noah, my reluctance to give my first time to you has nothing to

do with you personally. I might be in the minority in today's day and age but I still hold onto the belief that one's first time should be with somebody you love," she explained while shyly staring down and fiddling with the water bottle in her lap. "It got me Katie Ramsey on prom night last year," Puck murmured, his eyes glazed over in thought about that smokin' hot night as a freshman with the graduating head cheerio. Rachel quickly looked up and all traces of her uncharacteristic bout of nerves were gone. "As, sickening as I find that look on your face, I'm sure the girl you speak of was satisfied with the outcome of your coupling. Despite my reservations about how you live that part of your life, you're always upfront about your motives and you'd never force somebody to comply to your demands." Puck looked away, searching through his bag for another beer, while he tried not to remember how hard he worked to convince Quinn. He was sure Rachel would have changed her mind if she knew about the hazy memories he had over top of the head cheerleader: kissing her neck, bruising her lips, her breathing out no's until her resolve was too weak to say anything but yes. But, he didn't force her. Rachel was right; Puck didn't think he could ever do that.

Quinn told him to bring the booze and Quinn had pulled him into her room. She kissed him back and panted in his ear. She never pushed him away, even when he looked up at her at the last second before hitting the home run. Puck guzzled half his beer and when he felt Rachel reach out to clasp his forearm, he knew she had noticed something was up. Puck reluctantly placed his can between his feet and turned to look at her questioning eyes. "Don't girls want it just as much as guys do?" he asked slowly, watching as Rachel's eyebrows slanted in confusion. "Normally, we do, sometimes more, depending on how emotionally involved we are. Women are just better at hiding it behind self-control," she explained with a slight tilt of her head that caused the long waves of her hair to fall carelessly over her shoulder. "What does that have to do with…Noah you don't have—" "No!" he yelled, way louder than he actually wanted, since Rachel jumped in surprise. "Well, yes, because you're a hot Jew but not because I like you or anything." Rachel shook her head, rolling her eyes, as she

withdrew her hand from his arm. "It is nice to know you find me attractive and are not put off by my nose in the slightest, but if your question had nothing to do with me than why did you ask it?" Puck tried to figure out how to answer the question without telling her the real reason he had asked it. He couldn't tell Rachel about Quinn—not after just getting her to talk to him again—he definitely needed to wait on that. Lying wouldn't work either—she'd see right though it because they've been friends too long for her not to know—and it would just get her angry. Rachel really hated liars. "I guess I've been feeling sorta off, you know?" When Rachel just continued looking at him, Puck decided to just go with it, since she wasn't yelling yet. "Like I feel like I ate something bad but I'm not sick." Rachel started giggling, her tiny body shook beside him in total commitment to her laughter until the movement jostled her water bottle from her lap and it started rolling down the roof. "No!" she screamed in agony, like she was watching a person getting ready to step off the edge of a building. Puck moved to grab her wrist before she launched after it and they both watched her Evian bottle tumble to its death. Rachel whimpered softly after the dull thud could be heard from when it hit the ground.

"It's too bad nobody was underneath that. If a penny can kill somebody, we'd be in the Guinness Book for sure!" Puck exclaimed, nodding in agreement to his own statement. "Noah," Rachel chided, her arms flinging up dramatically, effectively breaking his hold. "I cannot believe how insensitive you are, wishing somebody would die for a picture in a giant book of miscellaneous two-bit talents and a battle for whose is bigger. Furthermore, it wouldn't be our names listed, but the unfortunate soul unlucky enough to be struck with a falling water bottle in the dead of night in Lima, Ohio." Puck looked at her with a smirk. "That would be pretty unlucky." Rachel had to bite her lip to stop from laughing. She couldn't possibly encourage such behaviour. Instead, she decided to focus on their conversation before her water bottle met an untimely end. "I never thought I'd see the day where you described feeling guilty about something," she said conversationally with an amused glint to her eyes until they turned darker with worry. "If this is about what happened with Quinn, please don't feel guilty on my account. I was never really mad at you, I just had a hard time facing the fact that this time I'll never obtain

what I want too much." Puck looked down at the bag in between them and tried to determine if that feeling went away with Rachel telling him it was okay. Quinn clinging to his arms and telling him she was president of the Celibacy Club, as he placed kisses down her neck, flashed through his mind and the feeling just got worse. He didn't understand. Nothing he did with Quinn was any different than any other girl, well, he was a bit drunker than usual but everything else was the same. He liked her sure, but not for more than the normal thrill of the chase and yet, this feeling was for her, not for his best friend. Puck glanced up at Rachel and she was looking at him with big brown eyes, her lip catching briefly between her teeth when she noticed him staring at her. She opened her mouth to say something but Puck quickly cut her off. "Let's toast to that," he said quickly, while reaching into his bag and holding out the can he retrieved her way. She stared at it briefly and then looked up at him for a second before reaching out to grab it. "Okay," Rachel said softly, still staring at him with this

intense look that let him know she knew there was something more to it but thankfully, for whatever reason, she was deciding to let him off the hook. He was hoping that this guilt thing would go away before Rachel asked him about it. Puck was already planning on avoiding Quinn anyway, unless they happened to be alone and he could taunt her without Finn finding out. Just a little to make up for all the times she called him a loser because he wasn't, Puck wasn't his dad. Sure, what he could remember about that night was hot—and he kind of would like a second go-around to fill in the blanks of a memory he was planning on reusing nightly for a long time—but pissing off Rachel again wasn't worth all that. Whatever was going on with his mojo would soon be gone and he'd sex up Santana for a weekend to get back on track. Yes, everything would be normal again, he was sure of it. --------Six Quinn wondered what God expected her to do. He knew her father, created her father, and yet He gave her this baby regardless of the risks involved, mainly

her daddy burning her like a witch if he found out. And he would find out; there was only so much she could conceal until she was the size of a small country. She kind of felt abandoned in a way, like she was given this impossible situation and just left to suffer all on her own. Before, Quinn had liked to think she was bound by morality. That she stood by her convictions because they were just and honorable, even with everyone else around her giving in to their desires. It had been hard sometimes because her body wasn't governed by the same integrity as her head. Having a boyfriend about as sensual as a Golden Retriever had certainly helped but occasionally his fumbling would hit just the right spot. That was usually when she'd pull back and make them pray in an attempt to collect her bearings before she let herself cross that line. It had worked with Finn—because he had no idea what the hell he was doing—but it hadn't worked with Puck. As a result, she was now pregnant, morally bankrupt and royally fucked. The state of Ohio wasn't exactly the best place for pregnant minors interested in hiding said baby's existence from daddy; a simple Google search and a semester of Government had made that explicitly clear. So she'd been prepared, armed with a fake I.D Santana had gotten her for a bottle of vodka from her parent's wet bar.

Quinn had sat outside the clinic for three hours yesterday, the special clinic listed in the brochure a harried nurse had shoved into her hand seconds after informing her that her test results were positive a week before. Quinn had watched so many people go inside of that clinic and she could see every single one of them, the ones that were exactly like her. That broken helplessness swirling in their eyes had been the same look staring back at her since she'd found out about the unwanted being inside of her. There were women shuffling in by themselves, others had men on their arms that never looked happy to be there, regardless of who they were with. Whether it was because they wanted the baby or just felt inconvenienced, Quinn still wasn't sure. Then there were young girls just like her, some with disappointed parents or siblings and others without. She wondered if those that had someone by their side knew how lucky they were, she liked to think probably not. Quinn was ashamed to say that it hadn't been a resurgence of faith that chased her away before she got the guts to go in, it had been those women's eyes when they left. Quinn wasn't sure what she'd expected them to look like but she hadn't thought they'd look exactly the same. After that, going in there didn't really seem worth it anymore. So, this morning while she hunched over her toilet

and Coach Sylvester had started yelling via blow horn outside of her window about a surprise 20k run in the woods, Quinn finally came to terms with the fact that she was doomed to see this through. There was no easy fix, no miraculous cure; just Band-Aids to temporary slow the bleeding. Finn was Band-Aid number one. Morally she shouldn't even be thinking about it—there was only one choice —but sitting outside an abortion clinic for half of her Saturday kind of warped her views on integrity. She just needed to think, preferably some place alone, except Quinn loathed the quiet. She hated the stillness in the air, the tense passing of time, just waiting for the evitable moment where all that silence was broken. It always left her on edge, coiled in anticipation, dreading that feeling of not knowing what came next. Usually music fixed that, she had a whole iPod full of playlists for every one of her moods, but it had died this morning on Coach Sylvester's highway to hell. The private balcony in the auditorium—once used to woo potential investors in McKinley's arts program and now a popular student make out spot—was a very distant alternative, right around a last resort, but it would do the trick. That leprechaun that played the piano was always there in the morning because Brittany had made friends with him and liked to eat her Lucky Charms listening to him before class. It filled the quiet and truthfully he wasn't half bad, just

super creepy if for the fact that he was always around. Only when Quinn arrived, he wasn't there and neither was Brittany. The Glee Club was there instead. The school had been a buzz last week with the news of McKinley's resident bad boy Casanova joining the polyphonic loser spree. Quinn really hadn't believed it but there he was flexing his muscles at a laughing Manhands up on the stage until his gruff voice broke through the sound of her giggles. "I know Cher's like all happy gay or whatever but the Puckster is one hundred percent straight. No way am I wearing feathers and sequins singing a song called A Different Kind of Love Song." The gay kid stepped forward, pulling that black girl that tried out for the Cheerios last year and was cut because Sue said her blood test came back tater tot. "All the more reason for me to sing the lead," he said with a nod and he nudged the girl beside him until she nodded too. Manhands stomped her foot in that annoying way Quinn had seen too many times when the tiny midget didn't get her way and her eyes narrowed in that way that could only mean indignant speech. "While I appreciate the initiative, I too believe that Cher is far too small a niche to sing for a school

assembly. To garner interest from our large, albeit music underprivileged, student body we must sing something more accessible to the teens today. I'd suggest something alternative, leaning more towards the rock genre to keep the performance interesting." Puck nodded, showing his support. Quinn never understood why somebody like him hung around Manhands in the first place. He was popular and Berry was an annoying loud mouth that had lived in the dredges of the sub-basement since she was born. Yet, they were best friends, despite numerous opportunities to leave for more trendy friendly pastures, Puck always stuck around. "How about Rebel Rebel? David Bowie is one quarter Jew, you know, and totally badass!" "I…I…I like tha…that song," the stutterer said, coming out of the shadows in her usual Goth vampire gear. Then the kid in the wheelchair rolled himself up. "Me too. I can play it on the electric guitar and get the jazz band to help with the music." Manhands clapped her hands with a bright beaming smile, as aggravating as ever. "Excellent, so it is decided. The vote is four to two, Mr. Bowie it is." The gay kid straightened up, clearly not liking the verdict, and ran a hand through his hair with a

pedantic flip of his wrist. "Well, we'll see what Mr. Schue has to say." Manhands seemed to deflate and Puck stepped forward, staring the other guy down. "Shut up, Georgie. We're doing the song and if you don't like it, you and Mustang can take a hike." "Fine," the boy huffed and dragged Mustang—that couldn't be her name because Santana would've been all over the girl—with him off the stage. "Noah—" Manhands started but Puck quickly interrupted, tossing his arm over her shoulders in a side hug. "Don't worry, Babe, they'll be back. Now lets call practice while there is still time for breakfast. I gots a craving for a McMuffin big time." The four started to leave seconds later and Quinn watched Puck and Manhands walk out the door after the other two. She wasn't sure what it was about the scene that made her chest ache. Part of her was convinced it was just a residual effect from the run this morning, since every other part of her body felt ready to fall off, but then she wouldn't be feeling wistful, almost like she'd lost something, if that were the case. Suddenly, Quinn felt it, Coach Sylvester's protein

shake starting to come up. Putting her hand over her mouth, she jogged off to the bathroom, passing the duo that had given her such pause just seconds before, and absently acknowledging she was no closer to figuring out what to do about Finn. As the bathroom door slammed shut behind her, Quinn realized she really didn't care. ----------Seven Rachel was brash, bossy and a little abrasive. She substituted bravado for her conspicuous lack of height and her personal mantra of Broadway or die predictably scared off the majority of the general population. She ate weird food and dressed in unusual clothes. Her propensity to talk likened her to a broken recording of an audio James Joyce novel and when it came to her career, she was as selfserving as they come. And yet, even with a list like that, restraint—or lack there of—was what Rachel liked to think of as her biggest character flaw. It was almost incomprehensible to most, if they stuck around long enough to ask, but then Rachel was a complicated person to understand. She just wanted things, wanted things so much that

she allowed herself to overlook the obvious in favour of attaining what she most coveted. That relentless need to grasp at her heart's ever fluctuating desire had quite possibly left her a little crazy in the end because she still went into the same situations fully expecting different results. So while Rachel stood there listening to Noah blather on about the possibility of getting sausage and ham on one McMuffin, she already knew she wasn't going to go with him. Sure McDonald's had recently added a delicious selection of smoothies to their beverages menu—and Rachel had previously pledged to sample said additions in their entirety—but any thoughts of fruity drinks were derailed the moment Quinn had run passed. The blonde had looked sick, incongruously pale instead of an unappealing shade of green. News had gotten around—Kurt had told Mercedes, who consequently had no volume control at all—that the Cheerios were spotted pulling a sleigh bound Sue Sylvester along the trails in the woods behind the Hummel residence a little before dawn and Rachel's flare for the dramatic had her almost convinced that Quinn Fabray lay all but dead behind the bathroom door. Noah still hadn't seemed to notice her preoccupation and when his watch beeped signaling the top of the hour, he pushed off the locker to the left of hers that

he'd been leaning on. "Dude, we got to go before the bell. It doesn't matter to me but you're all one with the truancy cops, so..." Noah trailed off in favour of following his own advice until he realized Rachel wasn't following him. "Are you coming or what?" Rachel shook her head, more so in an attempt to rid her eyes of their absent sheen but it doubled as prelude to her answer as well. "I wouldn't know them by name if they weren't posted outside your house every morning. Besides, making them cookies is only proper etiquette when practicing the art of good hospitality, Noah. I'm also going to have to pass on breakfast in favour of procuring the sheet music for our chosen song in preparation of the practice after school. Being prepared will further serve as incentive for Mr. Schue to see the benefits of our choice and I think it would only be prudent of me to give myself ample time just incase." Noah looked dumbfounded but carelessly shrugged his shoulders seconds later. "Whatever, Rach, I'm out. Good luck with it or whatever." Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, as she watched him go, until she was reminded of his tendency to loiter without her. "You better come back in time for first period!"

Noah just waved his hand dismissingly over his head and Rachel, deciding that it was the best response she was going to get from him, turned to shut her locker door. Books and purse in hand, she made her way toward the bathroom, reasoning that her entering said room wouldn't be out of the ordinary at all. Once inside, Rachel didn't immediately see the blonde anywhere. She decided that was a good sign until she heard the unpleasant sounds that thwarted her chances at Bulimia just as much as her lack of a gag reflex did. Sue Sylvester had run the poor girl to illness and Rachel's heart clenched briefly in response. She pulled out the gum and water bottle she had in her purse while she waited. When the toilet flushed, Rachel strengthened up and looked in the mirror attempting nonchalance. Noah said she was too high strung for it—when she asked him to teach her in a bid to hone her skills as an actor—but besides a brief stutter step, Quinn hadn't done a thing so far. Seconds ticked by—Quinn had started moving again but the Diva wasn't sure where—until Rachel finally determined that enough time had passed to sell her presence as casual coincidence. She turned to look at the blonde and found her all the way on the other side of the room, having put as many sinks as possible between them.

"Oh, hello, Quinn," exclaimed Rachel, completely convincing in her surprise as she was sure the critics would agree. "I'd ask you how your morning had been thus far but I unknowingly answered that question just seconds ago when I walked in." Unfortunately, her accomplished performance hadn't prepared her for the possibility of Quinn ignoring her. The blonde just continued on with fixing her makeup in the mirror like the brunette wasn't even there and Rachel's entire body snapped to attention as if she were a tiny foot solider getting ready to march. "You know, you don't have to be so rude. I was only going to offer you a bottle of water and gum to help with the nausea." When Quinn still gave no sign that she was actually listening, Rachel balled her hands into fists and decided on a different tactic. "Acknowledging people when they are conversing with you are the kind of manors I'd expect someone like you to be fully versed in. Apparently, I was wrong." Quinn's eyes snapped to hers in seconds and a familiar burst of frustration and nerves rocketed its way through Rachel's body. It was always like this with the blonde, ever since Rachel joined Quinn's kindergarten class and refused to share her gold star stickers. Quinn Fabray only ever spoke to her with a raised voice and a variety of glares. Today's seemed to be a mix between conceit and outrage, much to

Rachel's displeasure. "Someone like me?" Quinn sneered, the blonde's slender body instantly coiling for a brawl. "You mean somebody who actually has a life and friends that I didn't have to have Puck threaten into liking me? Yeah, that does sound like me, I can't say the same for you though, Manhands." Rachel's jaw clenched to stop whatever was bubbling up to the surface while Quinn was still poised to strike. Every part of her that Rachel could see looked as razor-sharp as broken glass, completely out of place for a body cloaked in cheer. The back of Rachel's throat yearned for a sip from the bottle in her hands but she refused to back down. Noah regretted not standing up to his father everyday and Rachel was determined not to break the promise she made him to never allow herself to feel the same. "If you must insult me, you should reconsider your position next time," Rachel stated with a most deliberate crossing of her arms. "Give or take a few words and mentioning Sue Sylvester's school wide reign of terror, being her minion seems a lot like the life you accused me of having." Quinn gritted her teeth and Rachel was wondering if she went too far when the blonde stepped toward her, closing their gap to two sinks instead of three.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Quinn leaning forward in mock inquisition only irritated Rachel further, so it was relatively simple to push her uneasiness aside. "I was too busy trying to figure out if you were wearing earrings or if your nose just had it's own gravitational pull. I came to the conclusion that something so large couldn't possibly get away with defying gravity like I'm sure you hoped." Rachel resisted the urge to reach up and announce her insecurities to the venomous viper that was closing in fast. Quinn was moving again and they were facing off at opposing ends of only one cheap slab of porcelain in no time. "Quinn," she started, pausing only temporarily to square her shoulders, "it isn't healthy to bottle up so much aggression and unleash it on the people around you. I can only imagine what the stress of holding that in is doing to your body, especially if you're getting sick. Please at least take the water, as I fear the repercussions of dehydration settling in." The cheerleader's eyes flitted down to the bottle in Rachel's hand before re-aiming the daggers back at the tiny brunette's face. "Stubbles, I'm not drinking anything contaminated by your man hands, now get the hell out of my face." "Quinn, I assure you my hands can do no such thing." Rachel moved to place the water and the gum packet

on the side of the sink between them before looking back up at dark hazel eyes. "I'll leave both items behind, just incase you change your mind. Your health should be of upmost importance to you, especially when adolescence is the most important stage of the body's development." Something out of place momentarily swirled in the blonde's tempestuous gaze before Rachel turned away to the door. The Diva really couldn't be sure what it was but it certainly didn't belong. In dark weighty waters, it had only just managed to surface so briefly that Rachel knew what she had seen was something she shouldn't have. Quinn rolled her eyes, her arms bowed with her hands gripping her hips. "Do you ever leave, Manhands, or are you a fun-sized disease that never goes away?" Rachel stopped and looked back, taking in the blonde's angry eyes, rage-thinned lips and abnormally pale complexion. She supposed that almost failing to remember that Quinn had been throwing up moments before had been what the cheerleader was after with her atrociously harsh words, but Rachel hadn't forgotten. She was still just as worried about the other girl's wellbeing as she had been before, maybe more so since Quinn didn't look to be interested in caring for herself at all.

"Drink the water, Quinn," she sighed before continuing her walk to the door. Once in the hall, Rachel pledged to keep an eye on the blonde; at least until she was sure Quinn was taking care of herself. It was what Rachel did for people she cared about, even for somebody like Quinn Fabray who had no interest in caring for her back. --------Eight Business was slowing down now that one of the bars in Lima was hosting ladies nights on the weekends. Those bastards were poaching his core clientele with dollar drinks and some guy named Frère Jacques manning the bar. His main mid-day talent had even dried up too. All the hot girls that he could count on to skip school to put out were now on the Cheerios—Sally Winters was the last hold out, she really loved the Puckster—and going to classes as Sue Sylvester spies was unfortunately a must-do for all the fine girls of cheer. Even Santana—who never said no—was being more of a bitch than usual and she refused to go near him until he had cash to buy her things. Actually, the only

person even remotely available to fuck Quinn out of his mind happened to be Finn's mom—seriously the woman hadn't stopped calling to make an appointment to get her pool cleaned since he'd left the first time—and even Puck was man enough to admit he'd already screwed over the guy enough, even if Finn didn't know about it. And all that was the reason he was currently in Biology. Sure, occasionally, Puck liked to go to class. Most of the time, it was just to fulfill the bare minimum attendance requirement to keep Rachel and her truancy chums off his back, but other times it was because he had nothing better to do like now. Lima was just a lot of open space and windy roads. Getting drunk and shooting stuff kind of summed up how he spent most of his time while skipping school these days. It wasn't like he could hang out at home, not with his mother becoming the newest waitress to take on the night shift at Earl's Diner. Really, he just didn't like school and despite what people thought that didn't mean he had no ambition. Puck wanted to get out of Lima and make enough money to buy his mom a house like those famous people did when they made it big. He wanted to prove to her that he wasn't anything like his father, even if Puck looked exactly like him. He was no Lima Loser.

And though Rachel never agreed with half the stuff he did, she was the only one that agreed with that because her whole life was about leaving town and proving everybody wrong. But, he didn't have a voice like hers; nobody would be knocking at his door in a couple years offering him a full expenses paid trip out of town. So, Puck just made sure to do enough to get by, waiting until his diploma. His grades probably weren't good enough for college, but then Puck didn't really have an interest in going anyway. As long as he wasn't flunking out, his marks were fine with him and he planned on walking out of town on his own terms, kind of like a badass outlaw in an old western movie. "Mr. Puckerman, could you least attempt to make it seem like you're retaining some of today's lesson plan?" Puck leaned back in his chair—sure he wasn't paying attention but it was impossible to startle a badass— staring down old McMullen, a strict son of a bitch with Urkel glasses and a sweater vest. He was also the supervising teacher in detention five years running, so Puck liked to think they were kind of pals after all the time they spent together last year. "Sure, Mr. M, I'm all over it," Puck promised with a large smirk.

The teacher sighed loudly and silenced the few kids that found Puck's statement funny with his everpopular look of detention. When the guy started talking again, Puck zoned out, finding the blonde across the room at lot more interesting. He had noticed something was off the moment Quinn came into class. More specifically, something was off with Finn and Quinn—McKinley's weak attempt at a power couple—and Puck couldn't help but think Fabray had told her boyfriend Puck had gotten there first. His stomach twisted at the thought and he was only more sure when Finn continued to ignore the blonde beside him for the rest of class. Puck was after Quinn the moment the bell rang, finally catching up to her at her locker. "Fabray, what's goin' on?" Puck said it as careless as he could, which wasn't really something he had to work at much. He might've been a little off lately but the Puckster was still as lackadaisical as they come. Puck frowned slightly when he realized his inner thoughts had just been invaded by Rachel words, he could tell because of all the extra syllables. Another one, damn it. "Why are you talking to me?" Quinn snarled coolly and she didn't even give a look his way.

It irritated him; how Quinn acted so much better than him when really she wasn't at all. He might have pushed for that night to happen but it wouldn't of happened if she didn't want it too. Puck again questioned why he felt guilty for her at all when she had treated him like an errand boy all his life. "Oh, I'm returning the key to your chastity belt," he said conversationally while leaning against the locker beside her open one, "you know, so you can pretend I wasn't inside you already when you and the boyfriend finally go all the way on the wedding night." Puck knew he hit a nerve and smirked proudly, even though Quinn was still turned away from him and couldn't see it. The grip she had on her locker door left her fingers almost white and her search for whatever she was looking for in her locker faltered for a little too long for him to miss. Then she was looking at him and Puck realized how pissed off she was. Her eyes were darker than he'd ever seen them—the night he sexed her up included —and the look on her face could only be described as evil. Quinn leaned in closer—probably to make sure nobody overheard—and Puck fought to keep appearing unaffected, even though he was battling with the need to kiss her or run away. "Lets get one thing straight, that night was a mistake.

The only reason I let you near me was because you got me drunk and I was feeling fat that day. So don't talk to me in the halls, don't stare at me in class and don't think it changed anything between us. You're still the Lima Loser you've always been and I'm not interested in anything with someone like you. Just forget that night ever happened because it won't be happening again." Puck clenched his fists briefly, having only one urge now and Quinn was lucky he didn't hit chicks. He took in her appearance, it being almost identical to his— ridged body, balled fists, clenched teeth, angry eyes —and decided to fight back the only way he could. "What makes you think I wanted anything more than what you were begging me to take? You're nothing special, and Babe, it wasn't even good enough to make it worth remembering." Her eyes flashed and Puck didn't realize what was about to happen until his cheek throbbed with the pain of being slapped. "Fuck you," she snarled and Puck just stood there as she tore down the hall like the angriest woman he'd ever pissed off. He felt sick once again, as he watched her until she was gone, and Rachel was definitely right: what he was feeling was definitely guilt. Puck just swallowed

briefly though before putting on his regular smirk and strutting after Quinn like nothing had happened at all. A few people were looking at him, but not many. Him being slapped was a normal occurrence at McKinley; really it probably would've gone unnoticed if it hadn't been Quinn Fabray doing the slapping like one of his flavours of the week that he told to take a hike. Puck was about to turn the corner into the music hall when he was grabbed and pulled into an empty classroom. He really hoped it wasn't Quinn—since he doubted she'd be pulling him in there for a little TLC— and when he realized that it was Rachel, he was a little surprised since she had been completely missing in action in his life lately. It had been a week since Rachel had blown off McDonald's for New Directions, possibly Nude Erections, Puck wasn't sure. Schumacher's voice got really high and girlie when he was talking about show choir, so it was hard to tell. Puck had wanted to ask Rachel about it a couple days ago—because he was really trying to make an effort to be a part of the team or whatever—and when she was nowhere to be found, he had finally put it all together. Puck didn't think she was doing it on purpose— meaning he was sure she wasn't mad at him again— because she still came over after school and they made a Costco run during the beginning of the week

that had Rachel coming back fifteen minutes later with three bag boys carrying enough Vitamin Water and granola bars to feed a small country. It was just during school hours, his best friend was gone. Rachel got like that sometimes when she was in the middle of one of her crazy episodes and Puck had learned that it was best not to risk being dragged in the middle of it by asking. So last night, when she took him to get his Breadstix on as an apology for not being around, blaming it on their different classes and her preoccupation with making sure Mr. Spanish's— Schumacher, no, well, it was something like that— incompetence didn't ruin her career, Puck quickly took her at face value even though he knew she wasn't telling the truth. She had said it in that loud overbearing show voice that she used at school, when she was trying to bullshit her way through the day. It was why Puck knew she was lying but he had just nodded, offering her a breadstick from the very top of the breadstick tower he built instead. Of course now Rachel was in front of him and he realized she was angry too—looking very much like a smaller version of Quinn but much more showy with her arms crossed and face scrunched— so Puck was starting to think that maybe he'd thought wrong. "Rach—"

"Don't." Rachel put up her hands, physically barring him from talking before throwing them up in the air. "I can't…I thought…" When she started taking deep breaths—something he knew her therapist had taught her to do to calm herself down when she was being bullied—Puck knew this wasn't about his fight with Quinn. He took a step forward, trying to decide if she was calm enough yet not kill him for touching her and ultimately decided it was better to be safe than sorry. "Rach, what—" "No," she murmured, shaking her head, "just…I cannot comprehend how you could be so careless." Puck looked at her confused, trying to figure out what she was saying before just deciding to ask now that she looked kind of calmed down. "I don't get what you're trying to say, Rach." Then she looked up and she had this look in her eyes that he'd never forget. Rachel looked absolutely terrified and he didn't understand until she said, "Quinn is pregnant, Noah." -------

Nine Berry was a freak of nature. Not only did she have no problem walking around like a gender confused chorus line member, but she lived her life as a succession of top forty hits stuck on repeat. Today's, and really if Quinn was totally telling the harrowing truth, this past week had been dedicated to the most peculiar and fundamentally creepy songs ever produced. Only Manhands would think a song about stalking by a band called The Police somehow ironically justified and omitted her from the stalking rule. That psycho popped out of nowhere like Casper the Ugliest Ghost—it's greedy little eyes wide and oh so creepy—offering Vitamin Water and granola bars as if Quinn was a refugee that was about to drop dead from malnutrition. Quinn wasn't sure what she did to encourage it, actually she was sure it had to do with their little exchange in the washroom a while back, but whatever the case she needed it to stop. Except, the merry little midget wouldn't get lost. Insults just seemed to go in one ear and out the other and threats only produced a glazed over hurt look that was accompanied with a simultaneous placating nod. Quinn even tried to renew bathing the girl in slushies but short of doing it herself—which she would absolutely not—it wouldn't be happening. The football

team refused to go against an order from one of their own, well, the team minus Karofsky, who tried exponentially hard to trade a round of slushies for sexual favors. Not even in hell—which with all things considered— Quinn was already half way there. And now—when she needed validation for her unvoiced thoughts—that thing was finally nowhere to be found. Quinn hadn't seen Berry anywhere at all today. Not creeping behind garbage cans or peering at her from somewhere in the hall with the intensity of an axe murder looking for a victim—the virility tainted pixie stick had just vanished. Quinn had a sickening feeling that it might be because of Puck. Their argument hadn't exactly been discreet and it hadn't been pleasant either. She supposed this was just another tier to her punishment and truthfully, Quinn didn't know how much more she could take. A small part of her was glad when Puck came up to her because she was just so tried of keeping up pretenses, especially Finn. Scaring him into submission by over exaggerating her annoyance with him about some brainless thing he said to her about something or other—really that kind of described everything that came out of his mouth—used to be fun when she wasn't pregnant out of wedlock with a

manwhore's baby. It didn't help that she was no closer to deciding on what to do about him, probably because she avoided thinking about it constantly. For a moment, Quinn had almost wished Puck could somehow see it—the parasite living inside of her— somehow see what he did to her—what she saw every time she looked in the mirror—and make it go all away. Just like in the auditorium when he made all Manhands' ridiculous gleeful dreams come true, Quinn wanted that, she deserved that damn it. Except, it wouldn't really happen. She was just another girl to him and he couldn't truly do anything anyway. Berry being a social retard wasn't anywhere close to Quinn's bad luck of spawning a sex addict's demon the first time she ever had sex. Apparently, the 'C word' really did help to mention and Puck's promise of 'trust me' didn't really count. "Hello, Quinn." The whispered greeting was too soft for the voice to be recognizable but common sense made it obvious it was a girl. Quinn cursed whoever it was outside of her bathroom stall—ironically the same one she'd been in when she found out she was pregnant—and violently wiped at the tears on her face, her hands only smearing the evidence into big wet blotches. She quickly grabbed at some toilet paper instead, silently hoping she'd be left alone as she worked on removing all traces of her

weakness. There was a sigh and then the walls shook around her. Quinn was certain the other girl must've fell back to lean against the door between them. They obviously weren't leaving and really only one girl was dumb enough to trap her inside of a bathroom stall for a chat. Berry. Quinn knew it was her and a quick glance down to the open space under the door proved it. Meticulously buffed yellow Penny Loafers and matching argyle knee socks—signature pieces in the dwarf's wardrobe —the quintessential kamikaze romance of what not to wear. "It's a bit juvenile not to answer me, wouldn't you agree?" Quinn's fists clenched in response to the whisper, why Berry was whispering the cheerleader really didn't know. "I'm quite aware you're in there, Quinn, as I wouldn't be here if you weren't." The blonde took a breath and calmly loosened the grip of her hands, wincing at the wet toilet paper pasted across her palms. She set about scrapping it off when Stubbles started talking again. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't covet the idea of speaking to myself over others as most choose to

believe. I did in fact accomplish the skill of listening in kindergarten just like everyone else. It's just that nobody ever converses with me about things that don't include an insult of some kind and a masochist I am not." Quinn tossed the paper glob in her hands into the garbage, shaking her head at the annoying rant being forced upon her. Putting a stop to it would be really easy but what Puck had said was still too fresh in her mind. Her façade had cracked a little bit and she wasn't sure what to do because it had never happened before. This thing inside of her was screwing her up—she was better than this. Still, nobody knew, Quinn didn't think Puck knew— that she was shaken enough to hide out in a bathroom stall—either. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing what Berry would inevitably tell him if Quinn were to go out there to punch her face in. His spawn was already making her puke her guts out; she didn't need his nauseating self-satisfied smirk to do it too. "I see you're still continuing to pretend not to be present and while I'd like to have this conversation face-to-face, I suppose sacrifices have to be made." There was a pause and some movement—Quinn crossed her fingers and hoped that the Gremlin made a run for it—but then it was talking again. "I apologize, I had a text message to attend to that just couldn't be

ignored. As I was saying, I have an important matter to discus with you that inadvertently came to my attention over the past week I've been providing you with the proper amount of sustenance for living a healthy life. I'm sure you've noticed me doing so, correct?" Quinn just shifted her weight on the toilet seat, silently wondering if already breaking a commandment— though not exactly by definition—gave her a free pass on murder. Not that she really cared at this point. In a couple months time, she'd have nothing to lose when she looked like she binged on a truckload of breakfast burritos and not only an extra one. "I'm going to proceed as if you've given a positive response, since the question was more rhetorical in nature anyway. Your overzealousness with your insults and threats this past week has made it perfectly clear that you knew of my motives already." Quinn absently leaned against the dispenser to her left, trying to figure out where Berry was going with her insane drivel and how long it would take. Until the thought struck her suddenly—Quinn's lip making its way between her teeth as she nervously played the tiny cross resting just below her collarbone—she wondered if Manhands knew about… No.

Berry loved herself way too much to be that observant. Stubbles was only after her now because she accidently stumbled into the bathroom that day. Quinn wasn't even showing yet, there was no way. "I'm sure it's quite clear that the events in washroom a week ago had me realizing how horrible your eating habits are and subsequently I decided that it would be inconsiderate of me to abandon you in your time of need. And I'm quite observant, despite what other's may think, and it became very obvious that a poor diet wouldn't cause the extreme case of nausea that you've been battling over the past week." No. No. No. It wasn't possible. Manhands couldn't know, she couldn't— "Of course, I wouldn't have figured it out if I wasn't privy to your night with…" Berry whispered until her voice trailed off all together and Quinn suddenly felt cold all over. Her head was spinning and…she was going to be sick. Quinn fell to the floor and clenched her eyes shut, hoping to stop her tears from falling. Was this what her life had become? It was one mistake.

Please God; it was one mistake. --------Ten Rachel jumped off the door when she heard movement from behind it, crossing her fingers in hopes that Quinn would finally stop hiding. Except a dull thud followed and the undeniable sound of rubber skidding across tile. White running shoes became visible through the gap between the door and the floor and the tiny brunette's heart clenched in sympathy for what she knew came next. She was also wholly unprepared. Not a water bottle or pack of gum in sight, thanks to Noah Puckerman. After Rachel had told Noah about the baby, her friend had taken off and she'd made it to the parking lot just in time to see him drive away. She could've followed him—since Rachel knew exactly where he was going —but she really didn't want to. He had the tendency to work through things in a way that had literally given her nightmares—being privy too just how flexible Santana Lopez actually was, well it was probably the most horrifying moment of her life —and more than that she was just extremely angry with him.

So instead Rachel stalked back into the school, too distracted by her own anger to remember to stop at her locker—the location of the mentioned water and gum—and straight towards the washroom. Quinn had marched by earlier while she'd been waiting for Noah in an empty classroom and Rachel felt like it was only prudent to use the time Noah was off defiling Santana for something constructive. She was also a little worried and for good reason it seemed. Rachel didn't need to ask if Quinn was doing well, it was abundantly clear the blonde wasn't long before today. Still something had kept the girl locked up in a bathroom stall, when Quinn normally would've been yelling insults at her by now. It was that departure from the norm that had Rachel struggling with what to say, even now when Quinn didn't seem to be sick anymore. Rachel knew it couldn't be comfortable in there—especially after the cheerleader had spent the majority of her time throwing up—but Quinn was showing no signs of leaving—or speaking—anytime soon. "Quinn," Rachel sighed, pausing in the hopes that the blonde would take the time to reply. No such luck unfortunately. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm not going to judge you." Still no response. It seemed Rachel was going to

have to get a little underhanded—for the blonde's own good of course. "Alright, I suppose it is pointless for me to stay any longer. I had hoped to offer some type of support, since I'd imagine you've yet to receive very much, but I see my attempts have been in vain. I also apologize for not being as dutifully prepared as our last encounter." Then Rachel walked to the door, pausing only to reach for the handle, pulling it open and then shutting it a little harder than necessary. With a small smile, Rachel watched as Quinn reacted almost instantly, tearing open the door, her Cheerio skirt whirling around her in her haste to get to the sink. Standing silently, the brunette waited until the girl was done rinsing her mouth before she spun into action. "Excellent, you finally came to the conclusion that hiding was frivolous way to spend your time. I was just—" "Berry!" Quinn spun around, looking a little crazy and Rachel imagined that a murderous glare wasn't exactly a good thing in regards to her overall life expectancy. "Why won't you just leave me alone?" Rachel breathed a sigh of relief when the blonde threw her hands up in the air and shaking her head being frustrated crazy not well, crazy crazy. She'd

been able to tell because Noah mimed out the different faces of crazy (female edition)—or so he liked to call it—back when she was training extensively to be a contestant on Survivor. A month later, she realized how detrimental such an endeavor would be on her voice and scraped the idea permanently. "Well the answer is quite simple, Quinn." Rachel walked further into the room, stopping just short of being in the blonde's reach and looked up with a small —hopefully placating—smile. "I can't." "Well you're going to, RuPaul. I don't want you near me, got it?" When Rachel just continued looking at her, Quinn grew more frustrated. "No more water or Vitamin drinks. No more granola bars and stalking me in the halls. I don't want your help!" "Unfortunately, I cannot promise you such a thing. Maybe before when I thought you were just eating unhealthy but now it is an impossibility." Quinn laughed loudly—her eyes were going a bit manic—and Rachel stiffened slightly when the blonde stepped a little closer. "Oh you'll do it, Stubbles because if you don't I'll make your life hell." Rachel smiled slightly at the threat but didn't say anything at all until Quinn stepped forward again, her hazel eyes just about black. "As opposed to what

you've done already? There's nothing you can possibly do that would make it worse and by the off chance that you do find something, I can assure you that it won't matter. I have—" "Why the hell not?" Quinn yelled, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Rachel looked at the blonde momentarily—taking in how unhinged the usually composed girl was and the brunette felt a little guilty for driving her there when Quinn's life was already hard enough—before remembering why she'd come in there in the first place. "Noah's my best friend, Quinn." She might care for Quinn in someway—feelings born within her attraction and yearning for the blonde—but that didn't mean Rachel liked her. Quinn Fabray treated her like a stray dog on a street corner—like she was superior to her just because of her status, her name and her talent for standing statuesque on top of a human pyramid—and there was no way Rachel could ever enjoy that. And, it certainly came nowhere close to Noah. Rachel might be angry with him for being so careless, caring more about getting in Quinn's pants than being responsible, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to just walk away. "The…it isn't his so just…just go alright," Quinn

murmured, instantly looking away and Rachel tried her best not to smile. It would only set the blonde off. "We both know that isn't true, Quinn and I think it would be beneficial for you two to talk this situation through. I know such circumstances can't be—" "No, Man Hands," Quinn growled, low enough to be on the bad side of dangerous and Rachel was wondering where the Quinn that caused residual smiles went off to so quickly. "Just keep your giant nose out of my business, alright?" Rachel tried her best to calculate the risks involved in continuing to push but being under Quinn's intense (and angry) scrutiny—a stare down if you will—was making it extremely hard to concentrate. Rachel was pretty sure it was foolish to stick to her convictions— at least while still in front of Quinn—but somewhere along the way that memo was lost in translation. "One hour," she said instead, straightening up to her full height—that admittedly wasn't very intimidating at all—and returning the gesture of staring back. "We can hold the meeting at my house, since I suspect you'd rather not have Mrs. Puckerman or your parents finding out. I think it would—" "No, that wouldn't be practical. I'd have to burn my uniform in a loser freak cleanse if I ever set foot in your house and you're just not worth the effort."

The blonde rolled her eyes, scoffing as they rolled and Rachel just managed to get out of the way as the cheerleader walked directly into her shoulder. The tiny brunette turned to watch her go with a small shake of her head—Quinn certainly wasn't any less volatile with baby. The blonde stormed out in true Quinn Fabray fashion—all intimidating glares with an icy posture—and when the door slammed shut, Rachel sighed. It seemed that she'd just have to get more proactive. Some envelope pushing was clearly in order, maybe a box too. Rachel had no doubt that she'd come out victorious because this Quinn Fabray—as opposed to the…well not pregnant kind—wanted help. It was just a matter of pushing her until she admitted it. -------Eleven

Santana Lopez was his go-to girl for two things: free booze and hot sex, sometimes both if he was lucky. And he was today because Santana's daddy left town for a doctor conference without saying goodbye and

Puck had no problem with assisting in revenge, if fucking Santana in her daddy's bed was all he had to do. But, more than that, his life just felt like it was spinning out of control. Things were so messed up—he had fucked up—and just for a little while he hoped he could maybe find something better; hoped he could just forget everything that he knew because Rachel wasn't lying. He knew when she was lying—her eyes had been big, brown and terrified—and she wasn't lying. Quinn was…he'd really…it just… Growling, he flipped Santana over, pinning her to the bed, sucking roughly on the skin of her neck. She moaned like an amateur porn star and he pulled on her blouse until buttons bounced off walls. Santana always smelt like ripe apples in autumn and did this amazing thing with her hips that put stars in his eyes. And even though she was a raving bitch all the damn time, when Puck had her like this she was so eager to please him. Girls with daddy issues; God how he loved them, except Quinn was like that too. Her urging him to go faster flashed through his mind, not because she wanted to feel more but because her father was going to be home soon. Quinn was pulling

him closer and pleading in his ear and that was when Puck forgot to find his wallet. "More," Santana breathed, running her nails down his back hard enough to break skin, the pain ultimately bringing him back. Puck palmed her boobs, squeezing and pulling relentlessly. Anger was clearly leading his actions— because how could he forget?—but the good thing about girls like this was that they didn't care. It had something to do with projecting their need for approval—it was the only thing he retained from Rachel's hundred-slide Powerpoint (Standing in the Shadows of One's Own Sunshine: A Presentation of Self-Esteem by Rachel Berry) before he fell asleep with his eyes open—so Santana dragging him upstairs and pushing him on the bed was totally not his fault. Heck, Puck even expected some sort of bitchy remark about his cash flow—or lack there of— when she opened the door. But, Santana just looked at him, pulled him in seconds later and had him sprawled out on her parent's slippery sheets not long after that. She was down to her underwear by now—currently pulling down his own—and Puck let her take control for a while. He just needed to stop thinking and her sliding down his body definitely did that. Seconds passed until heat surrounded him in the most delicious of ways, and Puck couldn't help but groan

when he watched her head start to move up and down. His fingers were covered in brown locks and every single swipe of her tongue was getting him hot. He forced her to take him further inside and when she moaned, he bit his lip to make sure he didn't call out something embarrassing. A couple minutes later, Puck literally exploded—there was a blinding light behind his eyes, electric shocks zapped him everywhere and his hold on reality slipped away. That moment he'd been looking for—when time slowed down, his breath got short and everything that was wrong in his life suddenly felt so right—it had arrived. Unfortunately, it left way too early and Puck really should've known that he wasn't going to get one night all alone—one night that was his—away from all the mistakes he ran from at school. His phone was ringing and Santana looked up at him warning him not to answer it with a pointed glare. But, he ignored her because it might be important— somebody could be hurt or it could be that guy that gave away houses on that radio show. Groaning, Puck leaned closer to her and she handed him his jeans with an icy glare. Maybe the post-cum haze made it hard to be an asshole because he pulled her to him for a long sloppy kiss while his phone continued to ring between them.

"Don't worry, Babe. I'm not going anywhere," she mumbled against her lips and she seemed satisfied enough to not do anything but roll her eyes. He wasn't stupid; Santana was worth keeping happy. Besides being bitchy, angry and really mean, Santana really was his best option for a good time. She was talented too. When she moved behind him to make herself comfortable against the pillows near the headboard, Puck flipped his phone open. "What, Berry?" he sighed, while adjusting his boxers so they were fully covering him once again. She couldn't see him but the fact that he was safely covered made the whole situation less awkward. It was ridiculous after what he just did that he felt selfconscious, but it was true. "I'll be arriving at Santana's in five minutes time. Please be ready to leave or I'll have to resort to drastic measures, which I have no doubt you won't appreciate very much." Puck debated silently for all of two seconds before groaning. "Fine." He then hung up the phone before she could continue to ramble and tossed it on the bed beside him. Puck was just pulling on his jeans when he heard movement from behind him. "Running off to RuPaul

again? What is she you're manly and freakishly short keeper?" Puck grabbed for his shirt at the end of the bed before turning to look at her. Eyes blown, lipstick smudged, hair wild, nipples hard—God what he gave up for Rachel. "Listen, Babe. Your parents won't be home until next week so I'll come back to sex you up later, kay?" She rolled her eyes and tossed his jacket at him with a disgruntled huff. "Don't worry about it, Puck. I'll find somebody else who doesn't have a pet troll latching onto them like a STD." "Whatever, Babe. You'll call," he laughed, smirking smugly as he slipped on his shoes. "You want this more than I need you." And she would call because Puck was just cruel enough to leave her wanting more. His motto when dealing with Santana: be a bastard. It worked every time. Then he left her in her parent's room, horny and all alone—damn it Rachel. Luckily, Santana would probably just call Brittany anyway. The sexy—and oh so flexible—blonde cheerleader was always the girl's second choice.

Rachel was waiting in the driveway, leaning against his truck. He wondered how she's got there but then Rachel had changed from the skirt she'd worn at school, now in Converse and jeans, so she'd obviously been home first. It was in walking distance of Santana's. They didn't say anything while they both got into his truck. He didn't ask where she wanted to go and Rachel didn't argue when the truck started to move throughout the neighbourhood. Rachel didn't even protest when they went through a fast-food drive-thru because sex always made him hungry. It wasn't until he pulled into the parking lot of the neighbourhood park—the sun was just setting and it was empty—that the tiny brunette decided to speak. "You got me a milkshake, right?" she asked while reaching over to grasp one of the two cups he'd put in his cup holders. Puck laughed, nodding slightly in response. "Cheating, huh?" Rachel glanced down at the cup in her hands with a small frown before shaking her head. "I think today is as good a day as any to indulge myself. You are well aware that ice cream makes me happy." "I thought that was water?"

Rachel took a sip from her straw, closing her eyes briefly with a small groan. When she opened them, Rachel quickly looked away from Puck's attempts at shoving half a hamburger into his mouth. "No, water is an attempt to swindle myself into thinking I'm thirsty instead of sad." "That was totally hot, Babe. Please do it again," he pleaded with starry eyes and ketchup on his chin, completely ignoring what she'd said. Rachel just rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure that isn't a good idea. To use an analogy you are most familiar with: you're a sex shark and my calling interrupted you mid-swim, which I find highly amusing but I'm sure your body doesn't concur with my assessment." "I'm always ready for quality time with a hot fellow Jew," he winked and the brunette sighed, looking down at her drink. "I can't really find humour in that, Noah. Not with circumstances as they are." Rachel moved her straw around before letting go of it and looking up. "Noah, you can't charm your way out of this and avoiding it is just as futile of a decision." Frowning, Puck put the rest of his burger down on the dash, looking straight ahead at one of the swings swaying in the wind. His hands migrated down to the steering wheel, squeezing the battered rubber until

his knuckles were white. "I know, I just…I wasn't expecting it, okay? She didn't even tell me and I still don't get how you even found out. She doesn't even want my help anyway." He didn't even get a chance to be different. His father had gotten his mother pregnant at a party in high school and then ran out after he was born—telling his mom he needed to work—driving his damn 18wheeler around America. He sent money, came back for a couple weeks at a time and then Hannah was born. He never came back after that. Puck's whole life he'd promised himself he wouldn't be anything like that man and now...he'd gotten a girl pregnant and he wasn't allowed to help. "She does, Noah," Rachel assured, reaching out to put a hand on his arm, leaving it there until she had his attention once again. "Quinn's just too afraid to ask for it. Such a circumstance is much more bearable with evasion rather than confrontation and seeking help directly defies that course of action." Puck sighed, running her words back in his mind before shaking his head. "Normal people speak, Berry but I got the gist of it. If she's too scared to ask for my help than I'll go to her. I don't care what it takes, I'm not my dad and my kid's gonna know that." "No, if you do that, she'll never seek out help." Her

eyes were wide with worry, silently warning him against following through with his own idea and when he just continued looking at her, Rachel once again rushed to change his mind. "It is most imperative that Quinn come to us or she'll never agree." "Or we can make her agree." Rachel glared at him and he sighed. "Fine, what do I do?" "I've set up a meeting for next week Friday. Quinn will be present and I expect you to be as well, hopefully with something intuitive to say on the subject." Puck was skeptical but she seemed so sure. She was greedily sipping from her cup of sin with a satisfied gleam in her eyes. He just couldn't help but want to know. "How do you know she'll show?" The straw fell from Rachel's lips and she tilted her head to the side in deliberation, making him uneasy with constant eye contact. Then suddenly she had a giant smile on her face and he could only imagine the crazy things that she was thinking. "Because I am confident that in time Quinn will see the merit in accepting assistance from those who want to offer it," she relayed with an excited clap of her hands, clearly something she picked up from being around Spanish. So that was definitely not right...maybe. Puck did

remember him talking about Spanish a lot, so maybe he taught Spanish—Puck hadn't really stayed awake in his class long enough to be sure—but then why did he look really interested when the gay kid was talking about Spanish breakfast foods last week? "Berry," said girl turned to look at him, straw now back in her mouth, "the teacher guy in Glee club, do you think he likes Tostadas?" --------Twelve Quinn Fabray was a monochromatically schemed beauty queen. Naturally gorgeous and dressed in her cheer uniform sometimes more than fifteen hours a day, the head cheerleader lived, breathed and looked death in the eye everyday in McKinley white, black and red. By death, she meant her clinically insane cheerleading coach that may or may not have posed for Penthouse before moving to Lima, Ohio with a wide variety of tracksuits in hand. Sue Sylvester was the equivalent to Lizzie Borden having an illegitimate love child and offering it to Benito Mussolini to raise. For her, it was all about power and winning—at the end of the day there was nothing Sue wouldn't do for a trophy.

And that included calling practices at five in the morning on a Monday, still fully expecting the precision and expertise of a team of world-class gymnasts. That coupled with Sue's fondness for believing that blame and torture were of the same meaning was the reason Quinn wasn't in Math. Being pregnant didn't help either. Morning sickness was a bitch at the best of times but not being able to feel her legs made it that much more torturous. When the squad didn't perform—some even daring to show up to practice late—it was on Quinn. Sue ruled with an iron fist, drawing inspiration from her—alleged—days fighting in Vietnam. Her girls were a single entity—they dressed the same, acted the same, thought the same—when somebody screwed up, Sue Sylvester cut off the head and let the pain trickle down the ranks. Quinn was Head Cheerio—as Sue liked to call them because she thought the word 'cheerleader' was trying too hard—and had been punished with laps long after the rest of the squad were gone. The blonde had already been seeing multiples and was pretty much seconds away from collapsing on top of the finish line, when the track-suited iron maiden herself appeared megaphone and scathing remark in hand.

Quinn had never been so glad to see three Sue Sylvester's in all her life and she'd been standing shakily in the showers ever since, concentrating in on her desperation to not fall down. The water from the shower cascaded down her lithe body, caressing her pale skin before pelting the startlingly white tile underneath her feet. She closed her eyes, placing her hands on the cool tile and leaning her body forwards so her arms took the brunt of her weight. The shift in stance aimed the spray against her forehead, the warm liquid now running down her face in streams leaving her skin tinted red in its wake. Quinn didn't think she could take anymore. Practice was getting harder, sleep was pretty much nonexistent and Berry was still tailing her like a disgruntled Chihuahua yapping at her heels. It followed her—to her locker, to classes, in the lunch line, to Cheerio practice, to the parking lot, sometimes home if Man Hands wasn't wasting away money on lessons for something dramatically inclined—always rambling on about the benefits of this meeting on Friday it had made up in its head. Because there was no way Quinn would ever step into a house lived in by a freak show like Berry. Man Hands was five pounds of crazy in a ten-pound bag and about as tall as said bag resting on a footstool.

She pranced around being annoyingly ostentatious and ear splittingly loud, boasting about being destined for Broadway. Quinn wanted to punch her in the face —aiming directly for the nose—almost every time Berry blipped her radar. There was absolutely no way she's ever entertain the thought, except for maybe begrudgingly—very begrudgingly—conceding that Stubbles' dedication was somewhat admirable. Shaking her head, Quinn reached out to turn the water off, it having long gone cold during her musings of how much her life sucked. Lavender wafted through the air, body spray left over earlier from a Cheerio no doubt, its smell becoming more pronounced by the steam drifting all around her. Wrapped in a towel, Quinn padded out of the shower —stealthily avoiding any reflective surfaces—and stopping at her locker, quick to began going through the motions. She donned her uniform like battle armor—feeling the surge of confidence the imported polyester instantly jolted her with—and brushed her wavy blonde curls back in a meticulous ponytail, not a hair out of place. Her patented ice queen scowl instantly found its spot on her face and she opened the locker room door just as the bell rang to end the period. Strutting down the hall—one hand firmly on her hip, cool mask of

indifference tacked firmly in place—people cleared a path instantly, leaving her free to walk as they tracked her every move, all except one person. Berry. She was at the end of the hall, staring at her with unconcealed determination. The irony of an epic standoff—the kind with tumbleweed blowing in the wind—was not lost on her. It was Thursday and Man Hands had one day left to do the impossible. When that didn't happen—reasons why were sited above— the gender confused elf would obviously realize that she wasn't going to give in, thus dropping this insane quest where it stands. With that in mind, Quinn looked away, heading to her locker like complementary matched argyle had not just scorched her retinas. Treasure Trail was still zeroing in on her position anyway. She could hear her stomping down the hall because the loser even stomped to a tune. Quinn opened her locker and started pulling out her books, mentally going through her catalogue of Berryappropriate insults to prepare for the inevitable arrival. Those hideous—yet meticulously polished—Mary Janes stopped on the other side of her locker door, Quinn could see them gleaming against the overly dirty floor. Sighing, the blonde slammed the metal door shut, looking down at Berry with a roll of her eyes.

"Man Hands, I see you hit the Salvation Army last night to further uglify your wardrobe." Quinn was actually quite proud of that one. It was insulting and she'd successfully incorporated a word she felt should be included in the dictionary. If one could beautify, certainly one could ugify—Berry being the prime example of such things. Unfortunately, Stubbles didn't look affected by the barb at all. In fact it almost seemed to empower the midget because the brunette had straightened up, narrowed her eyes and looked right at her. "Quinn, I'd appreciate if for once you didn't waste valuable time with your petty insults that really have no relevance to the situation at all. I think—" "I know," Quinn interrupted, ignoring Berry's disgruntled glare that she always gave when cut off, "except every time I'm next to you, I get a fierce desire to be alone so I kind of hoped you'd take the hint and leave if I insulted you enough." Rachel sighed. "You know I can't do that because as you know, Friday is fast approaching and I'm again wondering if I can mark down your RSVP for the event." Berry was looking up at her with an inquisitive gaze and Quinn wondered if she thought that would

actually work. Apparently, she did. "And once again I'm going to have to say in hell, Stubbles," she relayed before walking directly into Berry's shoulder, spinning the girl around with a sharp gasp. "Alright, Quinn," Berry called after her and Quinn forced herself not to stop to feed her curiosity, "I didn't want to advance onto plan orange but unfortunately drastic times call for drastic measures." Now Quinn did stop. Flashes of the midget standing on her doorstep—with What to Expect When You're Expecting in one hand and a congratulations balloon decorated in baby bottles in the other—whirled through her mind. She clenched her jaw and stocked back to the harmonious torn in her side. "Stay out of my business, Berry," she growled, jabbing her finger into the girl's shoulder with every word. "I'm warning you." Man Hands looked fearful for half a second before she once again straightened up in another indignant pose. "And I'm warning you," the midget exclaimed rather spiritedly, "I'm not above doing exactly what I have no doubt you're thinking because that…" Berry trailed off, taking a breath until her voice came out in a whisper,

"child is Noah's too and he deserves a chance to be there for it." "That's my decision and I'd rather not be associated with a Lima Loser for nine months. I'll take my chances with what I have now." "So you've going to tell Finn then?" Berry inquired while crossing her arms in a pose that clearly challenged her to agree. Unfortunately, Quinn could not and that realization was coupled with noticing where she was: in the halls of McKinley High, surrounded by her peers. "Shut it, Man Hands," she growled while subtly looking around to see if anybody heard. People in the hall didn't seem to have heard but they were looking at them curiously, since it wasn't everyday Quinn Fabray talked to Rachel Berry for longer than a customary passing insult. Quinn quickly grabbed the collar of the brunette's hideous sweater and pushed her into the empty Astronomy room a couple feet from her locker. Berry stumbled momentarily—Quinn was visibly disappointed when the Smurf didn't fall flat on her ginormous nose—and then the fun-sized annoyance was back looking annoyingly confident.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what do you plan on telling him? Because in a couple months that uniform isn't going to fit and people are going to figure it out. Admittedly, Finn isn't the most brightest soul but his mind isn't that ill-fated." Quinn looked down at her uniform and the confidence it had once gave her started to fade away until the artificial fabric felt like it was squeezing the air right out of her lungs. The blond glanced back up immediately and Berry's eyes caught her own. They looked so warm—like gooey chocolate chip cookies— giving off the illusion that if Quinn just gave in everything would be okay. But, Quinn knew better than that. She'd learned a long time ago that the world didn't work that way, no matter how much it looked like it did. "I can take care of myself, Berry," she sighed, turning her eyes to look at the large model of Jupiter hanging right behind the brunette's head. "I'm aware of that, Quinn but everybody needs help sometimes." Quinn didn't look back at the brunette because Jupiter was way more interesting and Berry's eyes were all lies. "It's just an hour and after that, if you still do not want Noah's or my assistance, I'll leave you to your own devices. Of course, if you still refuse such a meeting, I'll be forced to prolong my attempts to convince you of the merits of such an endeavor. The cycle will continue for as long as you

allow it to Quinn." Man Hands stopped talking after that and Quinn gritted her teeth at being backed into a corner because the blonde needed something scraped off her more than filled plate. She'd been tired, terrified and followed every second since that pregnancy test and unfortunately only one of those—the completely annoying and delusional one—was able to give. "One hour," she sighed while unconsciously clenching her fists, "and after that I'll leave and you'll go back cleaning up the chocolate factory, got it?" The answering smile made her wince because making Berry happy felt so wrong. Quinn looked back at Jupiter to save her eyes from the beaming beckon of happiness currently standing in front of her. "Yes, of course, Quinn," Rachel relayed with an affirmative nod. Of course, Berry would confirm something she'd said herself, "though I must say that the insinuation that I am an Oompa Loompa is most unwelcome." Quinn just rolled her eyes and took this opportunity to make her escape, throwing an absent comment— whatever, Berry—over her shoulder just before she hit the hall. One hour.

Then her miniature stalker would be gone for good. --------Thirteen For all Rachel's bravado at convincing Quinn to show up to her home—at a predetermined time that had been previously screened to make sure it was compatible with all of their schedules—she hadn't actually remembered to plan a suitable course of action for when the blonde cheerleader actually agreed. Her one-track mind never took into account the scene before her: Quinn Fabray standing outside her front door in her Cheerio uniform and a scowl. Rachel's heart beat a little quicker in response to the very short skirt swaying in the breeze. "Man Hands, stop staring at me like Patches the creepy homeless guy and move out of the way so I can get in." Rachel jumped in surprise before quickly doing as Quinn asked—ordered—allowing the cheerleader to stomp by her. The tiny brunette then promptly followed with a disgruntled huff.

"I assure you I was not staring at you like that fiend of man that once heinously chased me a block and a half in an attempt to steal the gingerbread house I had baked for the kids at Lima General during the Holidays last season. I would never—" "Berry, I don't mind that you're talking so long as you don't mind that I'm not listening and since I know you do, just shut up." Rachel did—reluctantly—and with a small frown she lead the tempestuous blonde toward the living room. For the first time, her parent's workaholic tendencies had come in handy. Rachel wanted Quinn nowhere near her room; it being one of the few places that she felt completely safe and Rachel refused to give Quinn the opportunity to screw that up. Noah was waiting for them, staring at the bowl of pretzels on the coffee table Rachel forbid him to touch until Quinn had arrived. She'd decided that hors d'oeuvres probably wasn't a good idea with an angry —recently blackmailed—Quinn Fabray in attendance. It had crossed the singer's mind more than once— since their extremely nerve-racking meeting in the Astronomy room—that Quinn might have the skills to maim with a toothpick if provoked. Rachel watched his head whip around to stare at them, his eyes tracking Quinn as she begrudgingly

sat on the sofa across from him. When he turned to reach out for the pretzels—that he was now technically allowed to have—Rachel cleared her throat and whirled her hands in the air. "Well, my presence is needed no longer. I'll be in the other room crafting a new draft of my weekly letter to the Ohio Show Choir Committee urging them to see reason in introducing a mandatory solo act into competition. I suggest you use this time—" "Oh no you don't, Treasure Trail," Quinn exclaimed, bouncing off the couch, her eyes wild and her fists clenched. "You're staying. I need a witness to whatever this moron has to say." Rachel paused, looking at Quinn momentarily before nodding and sinking into the matching armchair across from Noah's. She kind of hated that she couldn't just walk away, not after Quinn—in her own way—practically pleaded with her to stay. Rachel watched as the blonde sat back down, her body unconsciously turned away from Noah, almost like a preemptive strike of self-defense. Rachel frowned; clearly she didn't have the whole picture. There was time for that later though because Quinn was staring intently at the brass sundial clock that had been uncovered on one of her fathers' weekend antiquing trips last year and placed above the fireplace. The girl was really taking the hour

timeline to heart and Rachel never should've expected any less. "I see neither of you are very talkative at the moment, so with Quinn counting down our time by the second," the blonde turned to look at her with a glare and a somewhat charming dusty rose tint to her cheeks, "I suggest you start us off, Noah." The boy's head whipped up from where he was piling pretzels into his hand. Rachel winced when his hand tipped and his chosen pretzels fell back into the bowl, essentially contaminating them all. The icky germs of Noah's—yucky boy—hygiene inhumanly tainted her favourite snack for all—mainly her—to enjoy. Rachel was scowling when Noah started his speech. "That kid's half mine and I'm helping with it." The tiny brunette sunk her teeth deeply into her lip in an effort to not interrupt. 'Speech' had definitely been generous. Obviously when she asked him earlier if he was ready, his—I got it covered—reply meant he was prepared up to his standards but not hers and definitely not Quinn's. Rachel knew she should've pressed for more but Noah seemed so serious about this and… "That's all you have to say?" Quinn yelled, her eyes flashing and Rachel really shouldn't have so easily agreed to stay. This was just really really awkward

and the half written letter in her fathers' study was calling her name louder every minute. Noah strengthened up and he shrugged nonchalantly. "Babe, it takes two to tango and it's you're fault as—" Rachel's eyes widened at Quinn's impressive show of agility, shooting off the couch and close enough to slap Noah in seconds. Holy Barbra, this really was not going as well as she had—forgot to—plan. "Whatever, Puck. I'm done with this. Don't come anywhere near me, got it?" The cheerleader turned to leave—not even sparing Rachel a glance—and the tiny brunette decided to put her previously unfounded skills as a mediator to the test. Of course, this particular circumstance read more like a hostage situation than a mediated dispute but she wasn't about to let all her hard work go to waste. "Quinn," she called, chasing after the blonde and finally stopping her in the foyer near the door with a brave hand to the other girl's arm, "I implore you to stay a little longer. I know Noah…well he's left little to be desired at the moment but I assure you it will be worth it." Rachel waited painstakingly for the pregnant girl's decision. The fact that Quinn was faced away from

her only added to her anxiety, since it was impossible to prepare for what she was unable to see. "No thanks, Stubbles," Quinn stated coolly and Rachel eyes widened, visibly panicking as she watched the blonde walk closer to the door. "Wait," Rachel's brain raced for something to say when Quinn failed to stop after her hasty and borderline desperate cry, "I…I think that you need to be here because we're all the help you know you're going to receive. You can continue to ignore the circumstances as they are and convince everyone with lies that nothing has changed but eventually the truth will come out and you'll be worse off than you are now." Quinn had stopped but not turned around and Rachel desperately sought after something else to say. "And we…we agreed to an hour and if you leave now, I'll be forced to renege on my side of our agreement." Rachel had time for a deep breath—after her rather long speech—before Quinn whirled around and marched by her once again. Sighing in relief, the brunette rolled her eyes and followed after her. Noah stood up when they entered—he'd obviously realized his mistake—and opened his mouth to say something when Quinn beat him to it. "I don't care what you want. I don't care about your daddy issues or anything you have to say." Noah was

staring at Quinn with wide eyes and Rachel shook her head when their brownish colour went dark. It was times like these that Rachel wondered why she was even friends with a guy like Noah Puckerman. "But, if you want to help you need to prove to me that you can, since the last time I trusted you got me saddled with a demon spawn for nine months." Noah was eagerly nodding. "Fine, what do I got to do, Babe?" "Don't call me that," Quinn growled, her eyes narrowing and Noah put his hands up to placate, "and you can start with paying for the doctors appointment I have on Monday." "But that only gives me the weekend," Noah yelled, gritting his teeth. It was a next to impossible task and Quinn was intentionally making being there for his child contingent on it. The blonde shrugged, uncaringly and if Rachel wasn't Noah's friend—and ultimately just as affected by this—she'd be undoubtingly impressed with Quinn's devious ploy of revenge. There weren't many people that could bring a man to his knees with such relative ease and the trait made Quinn extremely appealing, especially when Rachel knew Noah deserved it. Just like being attracted to Quinn didn't necessarily mean she liked her, being friends with Noah didn't necessarily mean she was opposed to

making him a little miserable after what he did. "Well, the bill can't come to my house so you better think of something," Quinn stated bluntly, the ultimatum of 'take it or leave it' abundantly clear...at least to her Noah looked like he was teetering on an explosion: fists clenched, as if ready for a fight and eyes dark but definitely not from arousal anymore. When he opened his mouth to comment, Rachel quickly interrupted, "Fine, Noah will do it, right Noah?" She silently pleaded with him to agree and Rachel's sigh was barely audible as she watched as Noah breathed deeply and forced out, "Yeah sure." Quinn just nodded, a smug smirk playing at the corners of her lips before she turned to look at Rachel. "Now leave me alone, Stubbles." Neither watched her leave and when the door slammed, both fell back onto the couch, a whoosh of air leaving their lungs. "She just…" Noah whined, eyes still wide with amazement. Rachel shifted so her head fell on his shoulder and she ruefully patted his hand. "Yep."

"And we got…" "You, Noah. She railroaded you. I'm merely a bystander impaled with your consequences. Innocent bystander is what I'd be called, I believe." "You're still mad, I get it," he sighed, anxiously running a hand over his barely-there hair. "Thanks for helping me anyway." Rachel raised her head from his shoulder; her eyes swirling and deadly serious with a small smile contradicting her face. "When I consolidated all my research on being a potential best friend, the one thing that was abundantly clear was that friends stick by friends through thick or thin. I've just had the unfortunate luck of being friends with a person who tends to screw up royally." Noah's head hit the back of the couch and she felt his breath hitch slightly at her accusation. Rachel Berry never pulled punches, subtlety was definitely not in her wheelhouse and she was angry with him, especially when he almost just chased Quinn away after everything she'd done to get her to show up. "I'm sorry, Rach. I didn't—" "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Rachel exclaimed before pushing herself up off the couch. "I'm sure our drive will give us ample time to talk

about this further." Noah's eyes widened and his back snapped ramrod straight. "Drive? Columbus? We're going there?" "Noah, we don't have time for your futile complaints on the subject," she admonished, already looking around for the phone when she realized her daddy once again forgot to put it back on the pod. "We both need to pack and with only a weekend this is—" "...our only option," he finished, much to Rachel's annoyance. She hated being interrupted but to her credit, the tiny brunette just nodded. "I'll make the necessary calls and arrangements while you go home to pack. Please make every attempt to bring more than socks, batteries and condoms this time around." He nodded but unfortunately Rachel didn't hold high hopes that Noah would listen. They wouldn't be in this mess if he did.

So here is the reason I haven't updated my other story. When I was watching Glee I couldn't help but notice how completely bored Quinn looked in both episodes, and I tend to get slightly irritated by the way Finn treats Rachel sometimes. Anyone else think that

the first words out of Finn's mouth should have been "You are not a loser." Anyway...it's short and the idea is still forming, but let me know what you think and if I should continue it... Spoilers for Season two, episode one: Audition because it pretty much takes place during the episode. Don't own Glee or any Glee characters Indescribably Beautiful Quinn Fabray found it curious that she was sitting in the choir room at 3:00 listening to Mr. Schue talk about new members. She wondered if it was force of habit that had made her trace the familiar path to the choir room at the end of the day. Or maybe it was the fact that she had spent her entire summer alone in her house caged with her mother. Maybe she was simply craving contact with the outside world. Mercedes had spent all summer visiting family, Brit and Santana were at Coach Sylvester's cheerleading camp and after last year that was about the extent of her friend base. If she could even call them friends. Quinn listened and tried not to roll her eyes as she listened to the other members talk about being a family and, even though she wanted to, couldn't expel the nessecary energy it would take to snicker when Brittany mumbled 'Gross' when Finn stood up next to Rachel. Quinn let the chatter die and followed that thought as it ran through her head.

It wasn't that she thought Rachel was gross. Actually the summer had been kind to her, she was a little tanner, a little thinner, and a little (and Quinn stressed the little part here) better dressed. It was just the thought of the two of them together that for whatever reason made her want to gag. Quinn toyed with the cross around her neck as she admired Rachel and tried not to dwell on the fact that she was admiring Rachel. Whatever, she shook her head and turned back toward the rest of her classmates trying to feign interest in what was going on in front of her. Quinn knew that she wore her custom look of superiority as she stood in front of Sue Sylvester, but underneath her stomach was flipping and she could feel a lump in her throat as she struggled to keep her voice even in front of the coach. She had spent all summer getting back into shape and it was all for this moment, it just so happened that a stroke of luck had fallen into her lap when she had heard the news of Coach Sylvester's budget. She gave a small smirk as she turned with her hand on her hip and walked out of the gym. She had her foot back in the door. Quinn felt the familiar material slide over her body, but couldn't manage a smile as she looked in the mirror and tightened her ponytail. She was curious as to what she was even doing here. She really had no desire to go back to being the Quinn Fabray that she had been before the baby. She took a deep breath

and let a superior smile settle on her lips before placing her hand on her hip and walking out of the locker room. She had only gotten a few feet when she heard Santana behind her. And suddenly she felt Santana's fist connecting with her face and she couldn't control herself anymore. When Mr. Schue finally let go of her with an incredulous look she returned it with an irritated look of her own and stormed off toward the bathroom. Quinn felt annoyance and a little bit of sympathy for Rachel Berry when everyone told her to shut up. It was the same annoyance that she had begun to feel last year when even though everyone had started to tolerate each other, they still somehow found ways to pick on the younger girl. She listened and watched as Sunshine sang a song and rolled her eyes as she witnessed everyone cheering as the song came to a finish. Quinn couldn't deny that the new girl could sing, but she still secretly thought that Rachel was better. She couldn't really put her finger on what was better about it, but Sunshine had failed to provoke a response in Quinn the same way that Rachel did. For the thousandth time that day Quinn wondered what the hell she was doing. She remained off to herself as she watched everyone welcome Sunshine to Glee and tried not to focus on the apprehensive look that was just under Rachel's smile.

She felt an overwhelming urge to touch the girl, to offer her some sort of comfort, and a fresh bout of annoyance at Finn for joining in the welcoming. He was her boyfriend he should be comforting his girlfriend. She watched Rachel wander away to the back of the auditorium and gave Finn a dirty look that he didn't notice. She shouldn't be surprised though since he hadn't even realized that his girlfriend had left. Whatever, she thought as she followed Rachel out of the auditorium. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Man Hands, You're still our star." Quinn managed a flat tone as she walked by the diva and headed toward her car. She didn't look back to see Rachel's face, but for whatever reason she hoped that the girl was smiling… Quinn had been wondering all week why she kept coming to Glee club. It wasn't like she was a loser anymore. She was head cheerleader again, she didn't belong here with them. The only trouble was that when she went to Cheerios practice all week she didn't belong there either. She sat off by herself most of the time and the truth was she wasn't sure where she belonged. All she knew for sure was that she was lonely. She had never been so alone in her entire life and at least if she went to Cheerios practice and sat in Glee club then she wasn't lonely all by herself. And at times both activities amused her.

She fought her eye roll for the thousandth time as she listened to the band of freaks go back and forth with Finn about wanting to punish Rachel about what happened with Sunshine. Quinn sat back with the same bored expression that she had been wearing all week and watched Finn's fairly pathetic attempt to defend the girl he supposedly loved. All Quinn kept hearing was the way he started every sentence. "Guys, I know that Rachel's annoying and controlling, but.." Which was only slightly worse than, "Yeah, I know she's a little overbearing, but…" Quinn couldn't hear anything after the way he defended Rachel and she finally spoke up when someone mentioned that they should all slushie her to teach her a lesson. At those words Quinn saw red. "Are you guys even listening to yourselves? Seriously if any of you so much as cross Rachel's path with an empty cup in your hands I will personally make sure that the football team has an endless supply of corn syrup to torture you all with. All she did was protect what's hers, she might have been a little misguided, but let's move on shall we. So, Vocal Adrenaline gets Sunshine, we've got Rachel. They both have talent, the only difference is that Rachel knows what to do with it." Everyone stood and stared at her and this enraged Quinn even more She shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever, do what you want." Quinn came out of the bathroom and caught sight of Rachel and Finn talking in the hallway. Her stomach

clenched at the hurt look that crossed Rachel's pretty features as she watched the couple interact. Her fingers itched suddenly and her arm raised unconsciously to brush Rachel's hair behind her ear. She swallowed her shock at herself and noticed that they were no longer arguing. Quinn's face darkened in what she knew was jealousy as the football player leaned down and kissed his girlfriend and didn't have time to panic about the jealousy before Rachel turned around. She looked wonderfully vulnerable as she turned from Finn and made her way to the auditorium. Quinn had meant to walk to her car and skip the rest of glee, but her legs carried her into the auditorium to where Rachel was standing alone on the stage. She watched for a moment as the girl took a deep breath and turned to leave when nothing came out of Rachel's mouth. Just as she had turned toward the door she heard the opening notes of Rachel's song and was unable to stop herself from facing the little diva. Quinn sunk into a chair, Rachel and her voice took up the entire auditorium and Quinn felt her heart beat faster in her chest as she closed her eyes and let Rachel's voice echo through her body. Quinn opened her eyes as Rachel's song came to an end and was hit with one more startling realization: Rachel Berry was indescribably beautiful. ---------

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You for reading, reviewing and commenting, also for the story alerts and such, it is greatly appreciated. So here's the second part, still flying by the seat of my pants with this fic, but hope you enjoy... Hope to get another chapter of my other fic up soon, but this one is stuck in my head for now...as always thank you for taking a look and let me know if I should keep it going :) PS I haven't actually edited it yet so sorry for any typos or things like that...just wanted to get it up real fast before I go out... Spoilers for Season 2 ep 2: Britney/Brittany, also I don't own Glee or any Glee characters Stunningly Exposed Quinn fought her eye roll with every ounce in her body as Mr. Schue handed her his adult contemporary sheet music. She didn't really mind the music she just still couldn't figure out why she still kept coming to Glee club. Everyone in the room either hated her or was afraid of her, either way none of them were her friends. Quinn felt a spark of interest when Kurt mentioned Britney Spears, but it was squashed a moment later. This time with a spark of WTF as she looked at her sometimes friend and fellow Cheerio. Was she

serious right now. Quinn shook her head, happy that Brittany had Santana to look out for her. Whatever, she thought. There went her first spark of interest in a week. Quinn silently seconded Rachel Berry's motion to move on and tried her best not to look as bored as she felt. The next day Glee was even worse than the day before, and by worse she meant even more ridiculous. Really, a dentist? Even worse a dentist that would date Miss Pillsbury. She wondered if anyone could tell that the smile on her face was completely fake. She had spent most of last night looking in the mirror practicing before she went to bed and she knew that it was sitting just right on her face, but honestly she had been wearing it all day and it was actually starting to hurt. She reluctantly put the little capsule in her mouth and bared her teeth the same way everyone else did and felt bad when everyone gasped at Rachel. She knew the girl was telling the truth about flossing she had been unfortunate enough to witness it last year and rolled her eyes. She thought Rachel had nice teeth. Stupid dentist with his stupid dye. Whatever, Brittany and Artie's teeth were way worse. Rachel's might have been blue, but theirs actually looked grimy. Cheerios practice was pretty grueling and the next day Quinn decided to skip Glee club and visit the dentist like everyone else. She wondered if Rachel

would lecture her the next day. Quinn smiled at the thought of the little Diva cornering her with her hands on her hips as she closed her locker and flung her bag over her shoulder and shoved her skull candy in her ears. All the talk of Britney Spears in Glee this week had made her a little nostalgic and she had devoted an entire play list to the pop princess much to her dismay. Carl the Dentist found one cavity on one of Quinn's right molars and blamed it on her pregnancy. He kindly told her that pregnancy sometimes weakened the teeth and then told her that he would fix her up in no time flat. Quinn woke forty five minutes later only slightly annoyed that she had fallen prey to the Britney syndrome everyone had been talking about as the final notes to "Lucky" echoed in her head. She rolled her eyes, thanked the dentist and drove home. She tried to ignore her disappointment the next day when she found out that she had missed Kurt freak out on Schue. Even more disappointing though: Rachel hadn't threatened her about missing Glee the previous day. She begrudgingly wondered if there was something bothering her. Then she wondered why she cared. Quinn was standing outside of her first period class when she saw Rachel Berry walk into school the next day and she had to consciously remind herself to keep her mouth closed. She swallowed as the diva

walked past her and smiled and did her best to keep her face straight (and every other part of her straight) as her gaze followed Rachel down the hall. Quinn felt herself flush as she wondered how it was possible for someone so damn short to have legs that never ended. A moment later she rolled her eyes at herself and decided to skip first period. Glee was ridiculous for Quinn that day. She wanted to laugh at the way Finn was staring at his girlfriend all through rehearsal, but she felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. It was taking every ounce of her self control not to look at her the same way. She wished she would have gotten a compliment out before Santana and felt a pang of irritation at the Latina. What the hell was wrong with her, she couldn't even meet Rachel's eyes when she turned to include her in her speech. Rachel was definitely a pretty girl. Quinn had dropped her fake smile a few days ago and was back to her signature scowl when she caught sight of Puck gazing at her. He had been looking at her like that for a while now and she had a nagging feeling that he was screwing up his courage to come and talk to her. Whatever, let him squirm she thought as she slammed her locker. It wasn't a conversation that she was ready to have. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she nearly jumped out of her skin when Rachel appeared out of no where. Quinn rolled her eyes. A couple days ago she might

have actually gotten a kick out of one of her lectures, today she just wanted to get home to her shower and try to figure out why she continued to force herself to get up and come to high school every day. She was however relieved that Rachel had switched back to her normal clothes. Avoiding the eye candy was easy enough when everyone was around. She might not have the same will power one on one. She tried not to cringe at herself for referring to the small singer as eye candy and waited for the girl to speak. She looked at Rachel and made a face asking her If she was going to speak or just stare. "Hello, Quinn." It was then that Quinn noticed that Rachel was nervous. "Are you excited to do Britney Spears at the homecoming assembly?" Quinn just shrugged. "I don't really think that it's appropriate. I think that Mr. Schue is taking his quest to be a giant Man child a step too far." "What happened to embracing your inner pretty girl?" Quinn asked. It was the first time she had any inclination all week to strike up a conversation. "While I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy the attention, I don't think I should need to be objectified to feel attractive." Quinn knew what it felt like to be Rachel in this moment and felt compelled to offer the girl some comfort. "There's nothing wrong with the way you are anyway."

She said quietly, trying to make her voice indifferent as she delivered the closest thing to a compliment that she had ever aimed at Rachel Berry. She was relieved when the shorter girl let it go by with a simple look of gratefulness. "I think Finn is going to break up with me." Quinn listened to her blurt out the sentence. "Why? What happened?" Quinn accompanied her question with an eye roll, but found herself hating the fact that Finn could claim to love the girl standing in front of her and at the same time evoke such feelings of unworthiness in someone as confident as Rachel. "Nothing. Everything. He's back on the football team, Quinn. As I said to him earlier, our relationship only works if both of us are losers." Quinn didn't know why she was playing the bitch role, but she was annoyed at Rachel calling herself a loser. "You're not a loser, Ma- Berry." Quinn never realized how natural it had become to call Rachel names. She barely meant them anymore. "But why are you talking to me about this?" "Well because you are you, and even though I tell myself every day that Finn loves me, I am also aware that he does have a tendency to put an extreme amount of emphasis on his popularity. That's where you come in." Rachel handed Quinn a packet of

papers and the blonde arched her eyebrow as she took it and reluctantly skimmed through it. "Fine. Whatever." She agreed a moment later, oddly unable to say no when Rachel widened her eyes at the cheerleader. Quinn swallowed when she spotted Finn and scowled when she realized that she was nervous for Rachel. Quinn had gone home the day before and read over Rachel's power point a million times trying to sort out how she felt about helping her. Part of her prayed Finn passed the test because she didn't know if she would be able to control her urge to kill the boy if he didn't. The other part, the one that she had been successfully ignoring since the first week of school, longed for him to fail because Rachel deserved so much better than him. It would be less complicated if he shut her down because then she could go back to ignoring them both. Quinn caught sight of Rachel behind Finn as she delivered the lines that Rachel had included in her presentation. She hated and loved the expression of anxiety on the brunettes face as she waited for Quinn's answer. Quinn's throat clenched at Finn's answer and steeled her expression as she delivered the news to Rachel. She didn't have to see her face to know that she was smiling and she needed to get away before she did see it. Quinn had once again found her way to the choir

room after school and was sitting in her seat, once again struck by the way Rachel could look so vulnerable as she stood in front of them and addressed Finn. Quinn was finally seeing Rachel for the first time in her entirety. She wasn't just the obnoxious, bossy diva she had always known she was, she was more than that. When she sang she transformed and the Rachel Berry that stood in front of them now, pouring her heart out, was stunningly exposed. -------So I don't know if I'll keep this fic up because I don't really know how many people are interested in it, plus I have no real destination in mind. I know that eventually it will have to split from the show and I might just wait til I find the break to continue or for the pure pleasure of writing this I might just keep winging it. I don't know, let me know what you think if I should continue or not. If i don't get any interest though I'll prolley drop it for now because I do have another fic in progress Also I was thinking if I do continue I might switch to Rachel's POV for some chapters, again would love your thoughts. Since this Episode was mostly from Finn and Kurt POV It meant that I could basically make up anything I wanted so here's what I came up with...don't own Glee, or Quinn's song. Spoilers for Season 2, Episode 3: Grilled Cheesus (Best title EVER!)

Startlingly Fragile Quinn let her fingers dance over the keys and closed her eyes as the notes echoed through the empty church. She closed her eyes and for the first time in her short life a prayer didn't come. She swallowed and opened her eyes allowing her tears to fall over her cheeks at the emptiness she felt in her heart. It all started a week ago when Finn Hudson of all people walked into Glee and confessed his love for Jesus. At first the thought of singing about her faith had excited Quinn and then Puck had said that he saw God every time he made out with a new chick. And when they were finished dancing and they all collapsed back into the closest chair Quinn had caught sight of Rachel's face staring at Finn in over dramatic horror. Leave it to Finn to forget that his girlfriend was Jewish. She had stared at Rachel and considered what Puck had said. It was true, Quinn realized. She felt something every time she heard Rachel sing, and suddenly she felt guilty, and some of her excitement dulled. The rest was drained away when they got news about Burt Hummel and the world had stopped. She had heard the questions a million times and had always believed the standard answer that God works in mysterious ways, that people were not meant to understand, but this time it was happening to

someone that she cared about. This time she could feel the pain. She could feel how inadequate that answer was. Quinn spent the rest of the week grasping for her faith, praying for Kurt's father and trying to ignore the feelings that Rachel had been stirring in her since they had gotten back to school. The last part was the hardest especially when the singer had come to her and asked her if she would accompany her to the hospital to pray over Mr. Hummel. Rachel had taken her hand as she bowed her head and guilt had spread through Quinn as fast as the spark that Rachel had created by touching her skin. She had taken her turn and pulled her hand away from the brunette, taking a seat to wait for her next turn. That was when it hit her and she was thankful a moment later when Kurt walked in and told them all to leave. God was trying to teach her another lesson. She thought about the way that Rachel's hand felt in hers and the way that the brunette always looked at her in a way that said she knew Quinn was a better person. She thought about how much she had softened toward the diva over the course of the last year and how she felt whenever Rachel opened her mouth to sing. She recalled every time she had not been able to keep her eyes off of the tiny brunette and every time that she had thought about how pretty Rachel was and finally she thought what she had

been afraid to think all year long. She had a crush on Rachel Berry and God was punishing Kurt to remind her that what she was feeling was a sin. Quinn was wracked with so much guilt that she had to run toward the bathroom with her hand clamped over her mouth. She had avoided Rachel at all costs the next few days and could not bring herself to look Kurt in the eyes. She had been unable to stop herself from tearing up when he had sang his song and Quinn let herself feel her doubt to her core by asking the one question that every non believer asked in bitterness. What kind of God let people live in so much pain. Quinn's heart hurt at the emptiness her lack of faith left there and She pounded the piano keys in despair and headed toward the confessional. She knelt and bowed her head, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one year since my last confession." Quinn paused as she felt tears behind her eyes. "These are my sins." And then Quinn's voice broke and she was unable to hold back her sobs as she sat, thankful for the dark as she wondered where to start. When she still could not speak after 10 minutes the priest spoke for her, "I know what a rough year you've had, child, stay as long as you like and begin whenever you feel ready." He sad kindly and Quinn took a small comfort in his voice and the familiarity of the confessional.

"A lot has been happening this week, Father. There's a boy at school who lost his mother and might lose his father. He's an atheist, and I can't help understanding his doubt. I said a prayer, and I didn't believe that it would be answered, and I-" Quinn's breath caught in her throat with a new round of tears as she tried to confess the feelings that Rachel had been inspiring in her lately. "He's…a homosexual, Father." She said instead, deciding to save that particular sin for her next confession. "Is God punishing him?" "That child, is a question that is not easily answered, why don't we focus on your crisis of faith?" Quinn listened to the priest speak finding a small amount of comfort in his words. "Everyone's Faith is tested at some time in their lives, and during trying times it is easy to make it sway, but even a doubting man has Faith in the absence of God. Remember God is not only present in us, but in everything that we do. You're heart may feel empty right now in your time of despair, but the Lord has not forsaken you. Once you remember that perhaps you can go to this boy and try to shake his faith." Quinn actually smiled at his words, "For this and all the sins of my past , I ask pardon of God, penance, and absolution from you." "Please read Second Timothy Chapter two and Matthew Chapter 21 verses 18-22 as penance and perhaps when you read the words of our Lord you will

be able to return to your friend and say a prayer with Faith in our Savior." "Thank you, Father," Quinn said as she recited her Act of Contrition and the priest absolved her. Quinn left the confessional still feeling shaken and guilty, but a little bit calmer than when she had went in… Finn's song had left Quinn aimless and sympathetic and Quinn found herself sitting in the choir room in front of the piano when Rachel joined her on the bench. She was emotionally exhausted and could not even muster up the energy to greet the girl. "Hello, Quinn." Quinn could hear the distress in Rachel's voice and looked at her questioningly. "I'm a horrible person, Quinn." Quinn just arched her eyebrow at Rachel and waited for her to continue. "Kurt's father could be dying, he's going through this huge thing and all I can think about is myself. How inconvenient it is for Finn to have suddenly found Jesus, about my song getting ruined and how upset I am at the fact that getting to second base with Finn was less spectacular that I thought it would be. I'm selfish, all I ever think about is myself and I try to be better, but I can't help it. What are you doing here, Quinn? Usually I am the only one here when Glee is not in session." Quinn's head spun as the words flowed out of Rachel's mouth, but instead of being annoyed she

hung on every word that came out of Rachel's mouth trying not to revel in Rachel's disappointment over Finn's lack of making out skills. "You don't own the choir room, Treasure Trail." She said in annoyance, more at herself than Rachel. "Other people can use it too." Rachel looked at her hands, "I didn't mean it like that, I just meant that, well I was concerned that you might be experiencing some issues of your own and I was going to offer my assistance. I know we're not friends, but trying circumstances might allow us to overlook our differences for today if you need someone to talk to…" Rachel let her voice trail off nervously and fiddled with a key on the piano. Quinn swallowed, "I'm sorry, Berry. And you can be a little self absorbed sometimes, but that's not the same as being selfish." Quinn gave the compliment as penance for the name calling and rolled her eyes at herself when Rachel's hopeful look made her feel better. "I was looking for God." She said quietly into the silence. Rachel played the opening notes to 'One of Us' and Quinn smiled. "Wish we could sing that one, Tina's voice would be perfect for it." Quinn turned toward Rachel and actually smiled, "See you are getting better. Last year you wouldn't have even thought of giving a solo away." Quinn paused

and then asked shyly, "Do you want to hear the song I picked for the spirituality assignment? I know it was cancelled, but I did it anyway." Rachel smiled encouragingly and Quinn shuffled her sheet music on the piano before letting her fingers dance over the keys. She closed her eyes as she sang. God loves a lullaby In a mothers tears in the dead of night Better than a Hallelujah sometimes. God loves a drunkards cry, The soldiers plea not to let him die Better than a Hallelujah sometimes. Quinn felt Rachel shift beside her and when she opened her eyes Rachel's brown ones were staring at her in soft surprise at the openness and honesty that Quinn was sure was on her face as she began the chorus to her song. We pour out our miseries God just hears a melody Beautiful the mess we are The honest cries of breaking hearts Are better than a Hallelujah And as she sang she realized why she had picked this song and the truth in what her priest had told her, which sounded a lot like what Puck had said. God

was in the experiences. The woman holding on for life, The dying man giving up the fight Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes The tears of shame for what's been done, The silence when the words won't come Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes. Quinn closed her eyes in her own shame and continued to sing, her heart clenching when she heard Rachel's quiet soprano come in on the second chorus. We pour out our miseries God just hears a melody Beautiful the mess we are The honest cries of breaking hearts Are better than a Hallelujah Quinn opened her eyes and let unchecked tears fall over her cheeks as she once again met Rachel's huge brown eyes, this time unable to look away as Rachel's compassion showed as she sang. Better than a church bell ringing, Better than a choir singing out, singing out. We pour out our miseries God just hears a melody Beautiful the mess we are

The honest cries of breaking hearts Are better than a Hallelujah Neither girl looked away when the song finished and Quinn's chest felt full of emotion as they caught their breath. Quinn had become so immersed in her voice and her eyes as she sang that she had not heard anyone enter the choir room, but a moment later a throat cleared behind the girls and Quinn hung her head in shame. "That was really beautiful, Quinn." Kurt smiled softly as his tears matched Quinn's. He moved from the chair he was sitting on toward the door stopping hesitantly as he opened it. "I don't really know which of you did the trick, but maybe you could both give him a thank you tonight for letting me keep my father." Kurt smiled and left the choir room. Quinn felt her heart fill up as she realized that God was everywhere. He had been in Kurt's smile, in Quinn's song and when Quinn glanced over at Rachel, He was in the tears that were running down Rachel's face as she finally let her emotion spill into her tears of relief. Rachel was confident and narcissistic, she could be abrasive and harsh, but in this moment, crying her relief into Quinn's shoulder, Rachel Berry was startlingly fragile. --------After all the responses from the last chapter I decided I better keep up on this story as well, so here's how I'll

work it. I'll probably write a chapter behind the episodes that are aired so the Rocky Horror episode won't be done until next week when the new ep comes on. That is just so I can look ahead a week and decide if that is where to break off from the show, since I have no real idea for where this is going besides Quinn getting to know Rachel from afar. Also if you have any ideas on how to describe Rachel during the episodes, and want to try and help me out, feel free to share because that is by far the hardest part of writing this story. Thanks for all the support and reviews, keep them coming, I love to hear what you think :) Cassicio-I'm soooo glad you recognized the song! I am currently in love with it also, it's just really beautiful and hopeful that not all christians believe that God doesn't appreciate imperfection...Hope you like the new chapter. SoreashaAdams37-Haven't read your story for a while (liked it though), only because I try not to read any fics while I write, it's distracting and makes me feel inadequate which makes it hard to come up with anything. But anyway you're right it is hard to twist things in your favor. Especially when it comes to scenes that weren't in the episode because I have to come up with stuff that won't interfere with the actual episodes...at least for a while longer. Good luck with yours, I'll catch up on it soon :) and also a Faberry kiss would make my year, does that make me lame?

tarebear23- Thank you, I love to write Quinn. As you know from reading my other story I find her intriguingly complicated :) Hope you like this, don't want to have wrecked your fave episode lol. FYI- I am actually working on the next chapter to my other fic right now so look for it within a day or two (fingers crossed). Hmmm…so I read somewhere that Chord Overstreet's storyline was changed to pair him with Quinn when everyone saw how much chemistry he had with Dianna Agron, and I just don't see it. Don't get me wrong they are cute together, and I personally think he's one of the most adorable guys I've ever seen for some reason, but I like the way he interacted with Kurt better than Quinn… Wholeheartedly Generous Quinn was torn when she heard about Puck. She hated that everyone automatically thought he was stupid and felt an urge to stab Finn with her pencil. She watched him with Rachel and wondered how everything always seemed to end up with him swimming in Roses. She rolled her eyes and hoped he got poked by a thorn. Sam was cute. Even Quinn couldn't deny that he was definitely pleasing to look at. She was startled for a moment at the thought of finding Sam attractive. It

had been so long since she had noticed anyone besides a certain tiny diva and she felt a tiny rush of relief that turned to further irritation at Finn when he seemed a little bit too eager in welcoming Sam to Glee. Quinn held back her smile at Sam's joke, he was adorable in a goofy way and she felt a stab of sympathy for him, this school was going to eat him alive. Quinn went back to tapping her pencil and tried to pinpoint the exact moment she began to think that Rachel's over eagerness in raising her hand was also adorable. She listened to the excitement over Breadstix and tried to fight her confusion as her gaze shifted between Rachel and Sam. It wasn't as though she was trying to decide who to sing with, it was pretty much a given that Rachel would be singing with Finn and she didn't even want to do this stupid assignment anyway. Even though she knew she would probably skip this one (What would Schuester do? Fail her?), Quinn felt her heart sink a little bit as she looked around the room and realized that there wasn't a single person there who might have been willing to sing a duet with her if she had wanted to do the assignment. Quinn changed into her jeans and a hoodie after cheerleading practice that day and found herself sitting at a table in a dingy room, across from the only person she knew at this moment was as damaged and empty as she was. "I'm surprised you came." He

said. Quinn was silent for a moment. "Do you need anything?" She asked quietly not able to bring herself to meet his eyes. "Please, like your coming back to this dump." "Puck." "Look it's okay, alright. I get it." Puck's face was hard, but Quinn knew that he was trying to hold back his grief. He looked at her like this every time they were together, like he was in pain and she was sure that her eyes would mirror the same thing that was in his if she could ever bring herself to meet them. "I know you do, but it doesn't make it any easier." "Yeah. I get that too." Quinn watched Puck wring his fingers around each other. They sat in silence and he pulled his hands away when she reached over to comfort him. Quinn pulled back into her own chair and sighed. "Thanks for coming Baby Mama, I thought Rachel would be the only one." Quinn's heart skipped when Puck mentioned Rachel's name and she smiled wondering how the brunette really believed that she was selfish. "Rachel?" "Yeah she mostly lectured me about Glee club and

shit, but she brought these vegan cookies and they were actually pretty fuckin' tasty. The deliciousness distracted me from choking her." Puck paused and shrugged. "She's pretty crazy, but sometimes it's nice to hear that at least one person thinks you're not a screw up." Quinn smiled softly. "Well, now there's two of us then." She offered. He smirked thankfully as she got up and called after her. "Hey, it was an accident you know. I wasn't trying to rob the place. I was pissed and didn't realize it was in reverse. The store owner made all that shit up. And if you tell anyone about that I'll make sure to let everyone know that you're not really the bitch you want them to think you are." Quinn smiled sadly, in some ways Puck was perfect for her, "See you when you get out." Quinn left, leaving him slouching in his chair looking thoughtfully at a spot on the table in front of him. For a number of reasons Quinn panicked when Sam tried to kiss her. The first being the intensity in his eyes when he held her gaze, another being the flash of Rachel's face behind her own eyes as they fluttered closed for half a second before she backed away from him. Quinn stuttered out excuses as she left a puzzled and apologetic Sam staring at her retreating form.

She sat off by herself at Glee club that day and tried to keep her gaze from wandering toward Sam. She should be relieved that a part of her had wanted him to kiss her, relieved that after everything that had went down last year she was still capable of human feelings, but she had run. She hated the feelings that had crept up on her the few times that she had talked to Sam. She hated the fact that there was still a part of her that was Weak. Quinn Fabray didn't need anyone. She made good grades, stayed on top and when the time came she was going to blow this stupid little town and never look back. She didn't want to leave anyone behind who made her want to look back. Quinn steeled her self when Rachel walked into the bathroom and regarded the girl with an air of practiced indifference as she talked about the duet with Sam. Quinn felt her eyes roll affectionately and decided she needed to get he hell out of there before her practiced indifference morphed into a smile. It was only when she was at the door that she realized how out of character Rachel was being and turned on the diva accusingly. Rachel was cute when she was lecturing and being all intense and it took all of Quinn's muscle control not to smirk as she thought of different methods that would shut her up. "Fine. I'll sing with the new kid, if it will shut you up, stalker." It wasn't until after her date with Sam that she realized

that Rachel had fixed the competition. She had gone home smiling, said goodnight to her mother and was laying in bed thinking about the diva when it hit her. Rachel Berry would never choose such an offensive song for a competition, winning singing competitions was probably all Rachel thought about. Quinn tracked her down the next day before Glee, finding her in the auditorium with Kurt. She hung back for a moment when she heard the laughter and she felt her heart warm at Rachel's laugh and smiled wondering when she had gotten so used to her body's reactions around the brunette. She continued watching them, obviously rehearsing for something and having fun doing it as Rachel laughed again and flashed Kurt a genuine smile. It was oddly warming watching the two diva's with all of their defenses down, just being real with each other and she found herself smiling in happiness for Rachel that maybe she had found a friend for a moment, even if it probably wouldn't last. Quinn finally willed herself out of the shadows, knowing that if she let herself she could admire Rachel for hours at a time, and headed toward the stage. Both performers were startled when Quinn cleared her throat and set her hands on her hips looking at Rachel pointedly. "I think it's ready, Rachel. I'll see you in Glee. I trust you remembered your costume." Rachel nodded and Quinn watched Kurt straighten up and walk out of the auditorium with his

usual arrogance. "Why'd you fix the duet contest?" Quinn decided to get straight to the point. "I don't know what you're talking about Quinn. I would do no such thing." Rachel turned from the blonde and began gathering her books and sheet music. "You're a good actress, Stubbles, but you suck at lying. Why did you fix it?" Quinn asked in her head bitch voice. Rachel rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll tell you. I wanted to do something nice for you." This caught Quinn of guard and she lifted her eyebrow at the girl when she finally turned to face her. "I wanted to do something nice. I tried to do it by talking Finn into letting Sam win the competition to boost his confidence so he wouldn't quit Glee. At first I thought I was being generous, but then Finn pointed out that I was only doing it so we would have enough members to compete this year." Quinn tried to let Rachel speak and bit her lip to keep from snapping at the girl to get to the point. "Finn decided in order for him to win he couldn't sing with Kurt, he had to sing with you. No offense, but I think he would have had a better chance with Kurt, he doesn't tend to go sharp." Quinn almost smiled at Rachel's honesty, but kept her lip trapped as Rachel continued. "I saw you leaving the choir room one day

before you guys got in the fight, and you were smiling." Rachel paused here and ducked her head with a shy smile. "I thought it was nice that you weren't alone for once. Remember when we did the Mash ups last year? You had fun. I assumed that you were having fun doing the duet with Sam, you smiled like you enjoyed him and he's new and needed a friend. That is the reason that I talked you into going back to him. It is oddly nice when you smile, maybe because you don't do it enough." Rachel ended thoughtfully. "We have to stop meeting like this, Berry. People might start to think we're friends." But Quinn said it with a smile and motioned for the smaller girl to walk to Glee with her. They didn't arrive together because Rachel had to stop and change into her costume. Quinn had found out that Rachel and Kurt were singing a duet together that day and Quinn found herself wiggling in her chair in anticipation f the performance. The divas sat comfortably next to each other and as they sang Quinn thought that what Rachel had done was the nicest thing that anyone had ever done for her. Rachel had noticed her, how unhappy she had been and how much she had needed someone to make her smile, even if she had not been able to see it herself. She had understood that Sam was new and awkward and unlikely to make any friends on his own (because let's face it he might be sweet and cute, but

the kid was weird). She had given them both a friend when they needed it most and, doing it in secret, had asked for nothing in return. Quinn found it sad that no one around her really understood how amazing the girl in front of them was, including her boyfriend who had no idea how lucky he was to have her. She kept them together. Even if none of them liked each other, she knew that they all loved Glee. She gave them all the strength to remember that high school wouldn't last forever so every once in a while they could be better than they're reputations. Rachel was more than any of them gave her credit for. No one ever bothered to look past her eager selfishness to see that the Rachel Berry who was singing a duet with a boy that made it his business to ridicule her every single day, was in fact wholeheartedly generous.

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